Halo: Forward Operations Base
by goldenEY3
Summary: With the Master Chief missing in action and peace with the Covenant finally brokered, the remaining SPARTAN super soldiers are tasked with creating the next generation of SPARTANS. But will their ideas for creating super soldiers be recognized, or reviled? Non-canonical with Halo 4, possibly non-canonical with the Kilo-Five trilogy.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Fred wanted to frown. He was told that he and the remaining Spartan-IIs would be briefed on their next assignment by a team of admirals, but he was expecting Admiral Hood to be presiding. The SPARTAN project was public now, and had been for a long time; Fred imagined that they would be briefed for public operations, such as peacekeeping in the post-war reconstruction. With military tech and arms widely available, it was only a matter of time that surviving Insurrectionists would decide to strike while the iron was hot.

Instead, he, Kelly, Linda, Mendez, Tom, Lucy and Ash were in a capital ship called the Infinity. And judging by the amount of security they had gone through, it was obvious that the ship was cutting edge UNSC tech, and still very much owned by the Office of Naval Intelligence.

As they saying went, it was the little things in life, and every single little thing set Fred on edge. While everyone wore UNSC uniforms, they were devoid of badges. No campaign ribbons, medals earned, or even name tags; the only insignia they carried was of their rank. ONI had said they summoned the last remaining Spartan-IIs and –IIIs, but Naomi was strangely absent; Fred had last seen her at the memorial service, along with Serin, who was with them, but sitting on the other side of the table; she was even less of a Spartan more than ever.

Another thing that rubbed Fred wrong was that Dr. Halsey was nowhere to be found. While she was technically a civilian, she always made it a point to visit them whenever she possibly could. Usually that would manifest on shore leaves, or most mission briefings where they were summoned to talk to the top brass before a massive operation.

But what truly scared Fred was how perfect everything seemed to be to the admirals. The secrecy was normal for them. They glided through the security checkpoints, not even blinking when ordered to surrender their equipment to the MPs. Everything was handled professionally, crisply, and utterly coldly, like they were cogs in a greater machine. Everything seemed to be planned to a T, which is what scared Fred the most. He knew how fast a perfect looking situation could turn into the perfect cluster fuck. He buried the urge to frown even deeper, just in case it leaked out onto his face.

He did risk a quick glimpse at Kelly and Linda, though. The tiny movement would be lost on a regular human, but for a Spartan, the action stood out. The three traded looks, knowing exactly what the other was thinking. After spending their entire lives together, they knew how to read each other like a book. Even Mendez was able to pick up the motion, having trained them since they were children.

It was less certain for the SPARTAN-IIIs standing next to Fred. Tom, Lucy and Ash were standing ramrod straight, just as he was, but they were shorter than he was, as tall as a regular human. The slight movement of his head was lost on them. Fred wondered how they were taking everything. Lucy was mute, only breaking her silence when she snapped and knocked Dr. Halsey out when they were trapped in the pocket world of Onyx. She was talking more, but in broken, fractured ways. Tom was brimming with anger whether he knew it or not, and Ash seemed to be utterly blank. As a third generation SPARTAN-III, he was suffering from enhanced aggression, but with the medication he was receiving, he seemed too placid.

Fred wondered how Kurt could change his soldiers so much. Enhanced aggression? It seemed like a good thing to have, but not when it would compromise a soldier's mental stability.

"I'd imagine that you would very much like to know why you are here, Lieutenant," an admiral said. Fred could detect a slight smile on her face, almost as if she enjoyed playing with him. She was definitely ONI.

"That would be very much appreciated, Admiral."

"You are here because of your invaluable experiences. Not just you, Lieutenant, but the rest of your Spartans as well. You are all property of the UNSC, and we still need your help."

"Ma'am, if I may, are we to start policing against possible Insurrectionists again?"

"The Insurrectionists? Good Heavens, no. While they are undoubtedly a problem, we believe that you do not need to worry yourself with them."

"Then how may we serve?"

"You are here to help finish training for the Spartan-IV project, Lieutenant," the admiral said with a smile. "You and the rest of your Spartans will become trainers, ensuring the completion of the project."

Suddenly Fred wanted to frown more so than ever.

"Permission to speak freely?"

"Such a gentleman." Fred almost flinched. "Granted."

"You said 'finish training.' Do we have the right to assume you've already began?"

"Smart, too, just what I've expected from Dr. Halsey's project. Yes, they have already began training, and have recently finished the augmentation process."

"May I ask how the procedure went?"

"It went perfectly. No fatalities."

This time Fred did react. In his peripheral vision, he saw Kelly and Linda trade small looks of surprise.

"Your science teams found ways to perfect the procedure?"

"Of sorts. I'd imagine the Spartan-IIIs would be more familiar with our procedures than you, Lieutenant."

"You used a different procedure?" Fred frowned.

"One vastly superior to Dr. Halsey's barbaric tinkering's. And this time on willing adults."

_So they aren't real Spartans,_ Fred thought.

The admiral keyed an intercom. "Send in the Captain."

One of the doors to the auditorium opened, and a man walked in. He was tall, but not Spartan tall, just over six feet, and was heavily muscular, even in his dress uniform. He walked with an air of power, confidence and even swagger, his hair cut to very ends of regulation length. To Fred, he looked like an ODST.

"Captain Michael Virmire reporting," he saluted.

"Captain, meet Lieutenant Fredric," the admiral said. "The Captain here is the chief officer of the Spartan-IVs."

"It's an honor, sir," Michael said.

"Likewise," Fred mouthed.

"You will begin training tomorrow. Everyone is expecting the very best you have to offer."

"Ma'am," Fred saluted.

* * *

"You're still hung up on Halsey, aren't you," Serin said as they walked down the corridor of ONI command.

"I know you don't like her, but she was the creator of the program. We need her know-how," Fred crisply replied.

"Do you know where she is?" Kelly asked. Fred was shocked that she would ask such a thing. It was no secret that Dr. Halsey was the mother figure to the Spartans, but their affection was never publicly displayed.

"As a Captain in the Office of Naval Intelligence, I can assure you I don't know where she is." Serin could have fooled herself.

"Good to know we have friends in high places," Linda said.

"Cool it, everyone," Fred snapped, stopping on his heel. "We don't have Dr. Halsey, but we have her notes. We need to put her loss behind us and move on, and I don't want anyone pulling hair over this."

"Understood, sir," Linda said.

"I'll keep things as professional as your soldiers," Serin promised.

"Good," Fred said. "Serin, do you have any information on John?"

"The Master Chief is still MIA," she said. "We've seen neither hide nor hair of him since the Forward Unto Dawn split in Slipspace. He's assumed KIA."

He, Kelly, Linda and Mendez looked at each other. They still didn't believe it. Lucy, Tom and Ash did; they never knew the Chief.

"Okay Spartans, you heard the lady. The Master Chief is missing in action for the foreseeable future. Get it out of your heads that he'll be riding out of the sunset to meet us, we've got a job to do. And Serin? Thank you."

"I'll let you know if anything changes," she said, walking away.

"It's a good thing us Spartans never die," Linda said.

"Yea, we only go missing in action," Kelly added.

* * *

No one was talking. The tension was palpable, but Fred wasn't willing to break it. Instead he was content to simply suiting up, preparing for the training. Normally it would take a small team of engineers to suit up a Spartan, but after spending years in their Mjolnir armor, it was second nature. Kelly finished first, not to anyone's surprise. She was the fastest, even without trying. She stood, holding her helmet, waiting for Fred, Linda and the Spartan-IIIs to finish.

Tom was next to finish, followed quickly by Lucy and Ash. Instead of wearing Mjolnir armor, they suited in in their SPI armor. Lighter, weaker, and built for stealth instead of fighting, it was easier for them to put on.

Even when they finished, there was no talking. Fred didn't like it. Everyone had something to say, he could feel it, but no one wanted to say it. Either that, or they were waiting for him. Fred wished John was here. He would know what to say.

"Feelings?" He finally said.

"I don't like this," Kelly said, cutting Linda off before she had time to speak her first syllable. "These Spartan-IVs aren't like us. They're more Orion, like Chief Mendez. I've always though the Orion project was mostly a failure."

"A failure only in the brass' number games," Fred said. "Mendez is proof of that. Not enough soldiers survived, so they shut it down."

"Then why reopen it?" Linda asked. "And why call them Spartans?"

"I don't know."

"Really?" The Spartan-IIs turned to Tom. He returned their looks. "You don't know how popular you are? You're all living legends. Everyone has heard of the Spartans."

"So they did it because they're making a brand name?" Kelly asked.

"It sounds like it," Ash said. "It helps moral, knowing you have Spartans on your side. That's how they got us to volunteer, they showed us a Spartan."

"You mean Kurt," Fred said. Tom flinched, looking away.

"Yes," Lucy said.

"So they're keeping us to put an extra edge on the IVs, I can understand that. But why use adults? They'll just be repeating Orion."

"Maybe they're trying to break away from Dr. Halsey," Tom said. "I was talking to a psychiatrist, and he seemed shocked that I volunteered when I was ten."

A half-forgotten memory rose to Fred's conscious. He was a child, and Dr. Halsey was standing on a platform.

_You can never go back to your families._

But this was his family now. Kelly, Linda and Naomi, wherever she was.

"You're saying that if the project is public, they wouldn't want people to know about the training," Fred said.

"Or how they got the soldiers," Linda added.

"Fine." Fred finished attaching his gauntlet. Linda was quick to follow. "It doesn't matter who these people are, it's our job to train them. Let's go."

Fred led them out of the locker room, donning his helmet before entering the training area of the Infinity. Inside was grass and hills, very much like the ones on Reach. For a split second, Fred felt at home.

Then he saw the Spartan-IVs. There were a lot of them, almost two hundred if Fred's first glimpse of them was right. They wore their own Mjolnir armor, too, but they seemed more segmented. More of the gel lining was visible, less armor covering them. They also had smaller visors and were blockier, almost like they were cut from the same mass production line that Marine armor was.

_ONI must be gearing up for the next war, _Fred thought.

"Officer on deck!"

The Spartans snapped salutes. Fred returned it.

"At ease," he said. "I am Lieutenant Fred, 048. This is Kelly, Linda, Tom, Lucy and Ash. From this point on, we will be your new trainers. Captain Virmire?"

A soldier stepped up, removing his helmet. Fred could tell it was Virmire because of his long brown hair.

"Reporting for duty, sir."

"How long have your soldiers been training in their armor?"

"Sir, for two months, sir. We're very proficient with them."

"That's good to hear."

"What's our first order of training, sir?"

Fred expected an ODST to say that, not a Spartan.

"We will examine your proficiency with your armor, then assess how much training you will need."

"More movement drills, sir?"

A Spartan would have saluted.

"Yes, Captain. Is there a problem?"

"None, sir. We were just practicing armed exercises before you were assigned to our detail."

Fred didn't like where this was going.

"Are you saying that you're perfectly skilled at operating the armor in any given situation?"

"Yes, sir. My men and I are ready for anything from long range encounters to hand-to-hand combat."

Suddenly the attitude made sense. The man was clearly an ODST prior to his enlistment in the program, and in Fred's extensive experience, ODSTs had a show-me mentality. They wouldn't believe they weren't ready until they were beat in a drill. He opened a private comm to Kelly.

_Want to try them in hand-to-hand?_ He asked.

_Yes, sir. I'd like to see how the augmentation process was for them,_ she replied.

"Very well, Captain," Fred said, closing the comm line. "If you believe that your men are ready, select your best fighter. If they can beat Petty Officer Kelly, we'll accelerate your training."

"Yes, sir." Now Virmire saluted, a grin on his face. "Tyler! Show them what you've got!"

A soldier stepped through the ranks. His armor was painted a deep red, border lining on black. It appeared that armor color was picked by the soldier.

"Petty Officer Durdan reporting for duty, sir."

Kelly stepped forward, putting her helmet on.

"Fighting a girl, huh, sir?" Fred could hear the grin on his face as he looked towards his captain.

"Just get it over with," Virmire said.

The soldiers started surrounding the two fighters. Many removed their helmets and began cheering. Fred walked up to Kelly and Durdan.

"This will be a fight to submission, understand?"

"Yes, sir," Kelly said.

"Got it," Durdan replied.

"Fight."

Durdan darted in close, using a boxing stance. Kelly slapped away his jabs and lazily countered with her own, which Durdan easily avoided.

"Come on, that it?" He demanded.

Kelly didn't say anything.

He moved in again, unleashing flurry of punches and kicks. Kelly avoided or blocked them all. Fred could tell when she was slowing herself down, and this was one of those times.

_Are these really Spartans? _She asked on their comm line.

The crowd booed at her blocks.

"Come on, fight back!" Durdan shouted.

Kelly sighed and started fighting back. She started slow, throwing punches and kicks slower than the ones Durdan was throwing. She let one punch hang in the air for a split second, and Durdan moved to throw her over his shoulder. Kelly let him and rolled away. He tried to grapple her, but Kelly sent him spinning with a quick jab.

Her punches began getting quicker and quicker. Durdan blocked and dodged when he could, but Kelly was easily pushing him back. She started landing hits to his midsection, doubling him over. Durdan knew he was outgunned, but kept fighting.

"Captain, your man is done."

"With all due respect, Lieutenant, he's fine."

_Kelly, you're fighting to submission. Make him give up,_ Fred said.

Kelly nodded curtly and cut loose. She became a blur of motion, punching at such speed that Durdan couldn't hope to back. He double back, holding his arms up like a boxer on the ropes. Kelly kept at him, denting his armor with heavier and heavier punches. Durdan's knees buckled, and Kelly threw him over her shoulder with such quickness that many of the Spartan-IVs gasped.

"Do you surrender?" She asked, holding his arm in a lock.

Lying on the ground, Durdan threw a punch with his free arm. Kelly knocked it aside.

"Do you surrender?"

Durdan tried to pull out of grasp. Kelly slammed her elbow down, cracking his visor.

"Do you surrender?"

Durdan weakly hit back. Kelly hit him again and he went limp. The Spartan-IVs went dead quiet.

"Captain, summon a medic for your man," Fred ordered. "We'll give you ten minutes to get your squad ready for movement exercises.

"Yes, sir." Fred was amazed he could talk through such tightly pressed lips.

* * *

The mess hall, naturally, was loud. With over two hundred Spartan-IVs, it was crowded, too. Linda guessed it would take less than ten seconds for it to go quiet.

She followed Fred and Kelly into the mess. One IV looked up, and suddenly it went quiet. She was right; it only took four seconds. The talking picked up, albeit at a tighter, controlled pace, as the three IIs walked to the lunch line to pick up their food. Linda spotted the IIIs sitting at a separate table and nodded towards them. With their trays full of Navy slop, they took a seat with them.

"I assume that things aren't going well with them," Fred said.

"Oh, training's going fine," Tom said. "They just hate us."

"That's what I meant."

"In that case, everything's going perfectly."

"Why do they hate you? I'd thought they'd hate us instead," Linda said.

"Our training," Lucy muttered.

"They're not as military as us," Ash added.

"I'm confused."

"They were raised as civilians. We were raised as soldiers. There's a big difference," Tom said.

"Now that makes sense," Kelly said. "I knew they'd hate us IIs. We don't get along very well with ODSTs."

"They're not ODSTs."

"Many of them were ODST before volunteering. And ODSTs hate us."

"You'd think that after a month and a half, they'd get over your fight."

"Marines were never one for letting a grudge go to waste," Linda said. "ODSTs are worse."

"Why do you think ONI wants us here?" Fred asked quietly. "They must know that there's a difference between the Spartan-II and –III project and the IVs. Even with augmentation they're not our equal."

"Mass production," Lucy said.

"They're trying to make a better III project?" Tom said. Lucy nodded.

"What do you mean, 'a better III project?'" Kelly asked.

"The Spartan-III project wasn't supposed to be like you IIs. We're a…fire and forget solution." Tom said it as evenly as he could, but Linda could see the anger as clear as day. "For a time, it worked. They must want better soldiers than us, but with the cheapness of mass production."

"And still you beat them in training," Linda mused.

"They're not as professional as us," Ash said.

Linda caught movement in the corner of her eye. She looked up and saw a junior grade ONI officer walking towards them. She tapped the table and nodded. Fred looked up.

"Lieutenant Fredric, you and your team is wanted in the briefing room."

"Who sent you?"

"The ONI Admiral Board."

Fred traded looks with everyone.

"Take us," he said, picking up his half-empty tray. Linda took one more bite of her sandwich and followed suit. They followed the officer, stopping briefly to drop their trays off. Linda could feel the eyes of the IVs on her back as she left.

The officer took them down the now familiar corridors of the Infinity and into the briefing room. The room was darker, as ONI liked them, but her eyes instantly adjusted. Linda could make out only one admiral, however. An old lady, and Serin was sitting next to her.

"Admiral Parangosky," Linda saluted the head of the Office of Naval Intelligence.

"At ease, Spartans." They stood at attention. "Do you know why you are here?"

"Ma'am, do you mean here talking to you, or stationed on the Infinity?" Fred asked.

"You're reports were right, Serin," Parangosky grinned. "They do suspect."

Serin didn't react.

"You were stationed here on the Infinity to train the Spartan-IV volunteers," Parangosky continued. "What do you have to say about them?"

"Ma'am, they're good soldiers, but with all due respect, they're not Spartans," Fred said.

"Of course they aren't. Well, at least when compared to the original Spartans they don't hold up."

"Then why are we training them? They've only marginally improved while under us."

Parangosky smiled.

"Purely a publicity stunt, Lieutenant."

"I'm sorry, ma'am?"

"You training the Spartan-IVs was a pure publicity stunt, one that I made sure the entirety of the UNSC saw. As you are sure to know, the Spartan project has received an immense amount of public support ever since it went public. You were are ace-in-the-hole during the Covenant war, the one thing keeping moral from collapsing in on itself. Even if you were just used for photo ops, you would have boosted moral. But I doubt you'd want to be resigned to a life of posing for cameras, would you?"

"That's right, ma'am."

"So you were ordered to train the fourth generation Spartans, and it was publicly stated. Suddenly, you have a reason for staying out of the public's eye, a reason no one would question, leaving you with enough free time to do what's necessary."

"Ma'am, and that would be?" Linda asked.

"Doing what you were always intended on doing. Training the next generation of Spartans."

"You don't mean the Spartan-IVs, do you, ma'am?" Kelly said.

"That's right. I'm here to inform you that you will be training the Spartan-V project."

"With all due respect, ma'am, if they are anything like the IV project, I doubt we will be much help."

"That's why the V project won't be the same. We'll be going back to Dr. Halsey's original project parameters."

Suddenly it got quiet.

"You mean…?"

"That's right, you'll be training children."

"But you made it a public statement that we would be training volunteer troops," Fred said.

"I did," Parangosky said. "Loudly, and as often as I could. Now you have a reason to go missing indefinitely without having people question where you are."

"But we're under the assumption that the UNSC wanted to distance itself from that," Tom said.

"The UNSC, maybe, but ONI knows better. The IV project will never be as successful as the II project, or even the IIIs, for that matter. Dr. Halsey might have committed crimes against humanity, but she was bright, and in some cases right about what was needed, and right now we need those Spartans, no matter what the cost. We might have a peace treaty with the Covenant, but only as long as the Arbiter is alive. And I am not betting on him living forever.

"The children you will be working with would have mostly volunteered themselves, or their parents volunteered them for them. It will be your job to train them to the best of their ability. And you will have help, too. Chief Mendez has been assigned to you again."

"Thank you, ma'am," Fred said. "How many candidates will we be working with? Seventy?"

"Heavens no. A full three hundred. Symbolic, isn't it?"

"That's excellent news, ma'am, but how has ONI stayed with Dr. Halsey's genetic parameters?"

"That will be the biggest change with the V generation. We've opened the parameters, like the III project, but the entirety of the program would be getting the II augmentations."

"Permission to speak," Linda said. Parangosky nodded. "Those parameters were there for a reason. Half of us died from the augmentation, and that's even with us fitting the parameters. Straying from those guidelines would result in even more loss of life."

"The augmentation process has been improved. They will all survive the augmentation."

"Respectfully, I think you're putting too much hope in the science team," Fred said. "If Dr. Halsey was working with you, we could have higher—"

"Dr. Halsey is not with us, so you will have to make due," Parangosky snapped. "Train those Spartans and get them augmented. That is an order."

Everyone stood a little straighter.

"Yes ma'am," Fred saluted. "One final question, if I may?"

"Yes, you may," Parangosky said, suddenly all smiles.

"What will happen to the IV project?"

"They will remain as the Spartan's public face. We'll give them a permanent base on a planet, something the marines and ODSTs have been petitioning for, send them on some high-importance missions, give them some medals, and keep touting how they're the best of the best and in no way shape or form a product of crimes against humanity."

"Understood. When do we start?"

"Next week. To help you with your task, I'm giving you more help. Starting tomorrow, you will work with a host of dumb-AIs, as well as one smart-AI. Demeter?"

A holographic projector warmed up, and an AI appeared. It appeared to be a tree-shaped woman. From her toes to her heels, her feet were dark as soil with bright traces of roots running from the toes upwards. Her legs seemed to be the trunks, dark and thick with bark. Her torso began branching out, and her arms and head were the branches, with leafs as her cascading hair.

"Hello," the AI said cheerfully. To Linda, it sounded vaguely like the rustling of leaves, or stalks of wheat blowing in the wind. "I am Demeter. It is my pleasure to work with you."

"She's programmed to be helpful, whether it would be helping you select exercises for the trainees, or aiding them in their studies."

"Thank you, ma'am," Fred said. "A smart AI would be most helpful."

"No expense is being spared for you, Spartans. I expect nothing but perfection from you. Understood?"

"Yes, ma'am," everyone saluted.

* * *

Kelly could hear the trainees from the other side of the door. She had to be going crazy; the blast doors were easily two meters thick, made from grade-A titanium alloy, more than enough to make a Scorpion tank blush. She shouldn't be able to hear them, it must be in her head. She shifted in her armor.

_Nervous?_ Linda asked on their private comm line.

_I didn't train to teach,_ she replied.

_Neither did anyone else in this outfit._

Kelly snorted.

"Was this how you felt when you started training us?" Fred asked Chief Mendez.

"This is exactly it," the Chief replied. Unlike the Spartans, he stood in standard issue Marine armor. "Can't believe I'm doing this again."

"Hey, what could be a cushier job than teaching some snot nosed kids how to be soldiers?" Kelly said, full of bravado.

"I think I'll take fighting the Covenant," Ash said. "It's easier."

Kelly had to agree with him.

"Half these kids have no right being here," she muttered.

"That's not up to use to decide," Fred said. Kelly would never understand how he was able to keep his voice so even. She could hear the effort he put into it, though. Only John could make anything seem like a cakewalk. "Everyone ready?"

Chief Mendez, Linda, Tom, Lucy and Ash all nodded.

"We're all good, Chief," Kelly said.

"Good. Now let's put on a show for these recruits. Demeter? Would you please open the doors."

"Of course. For the record, the trainees are a little restless."

"Leave that to us."

The door to the main ground slid open. Kelly could actually feel a slight breeze of air push on her armor. The engineering corps did their job well. The drill field was just like how she remembered it on Reach; dirty meadow, chain link fences surrounding the base's buildings, barracks looming far in front of them, everything. If she closed her eyes, she could swear she was on Reach, and not on the biggest human-made ship in history.

They walked out in their green MJOLNIR armor. Tom, Lucy and Ash wore their reflective SPI armor, and Chief Mendez wore his simple Marine armor. In front of them was the crowd of recruits. Each had a marine handler standing next to them, keeping them in one general area. A hard enough task, as they were almost all seven years old, rambunctious and full of life. But seeing Kelly and the other Spartans, their eyes bulged out of their sockets, and they stood very still.

Fred walked up a small platform. Kelly quickly followed him, Linda and Mendez behind her. The SPARTAN-IIIs flanked the platform.

"I am SPARTAN One-Oh-Four, Lieutenant Fredric." His amplified voice carried out over the field. "You have been selected to be the best you can ever hope to be. You have been selected to be like us: Spartans. You will be trained, enhanced, and trained even more, sworn to defend the UNSC and all of her colonies from domestic threats and the threat of the Covenant.

"All of you are smart, and some are probably thinking why we would need to defend ourselves from an enemy that has promised to be our friend. While we have declared peace between the UNSC and the Covenant High Command, led by the Arbiter, we cannot delude ourselves. The Covenant cannot control themselves any better than we can control our own colonies. There will be extremist groups, uprisings, assassination attempts, even all-out war between us. To believe anything else would be foolish.

"There will always be a need for soldiers. And with the Covenant, there will always be a need for Spartans.

"Many of you are war orphans. You will undoubtedly want to avenge your slain family. I am here to tell you that that will not become part of your training. As soldiers, you will obey the chain of command, and will work to put the needs of the UNSC ahead of your own. I expect the desire for revenge to be dropped in one month's time, or you will face disciplinary actions.

"Tomorrow we begin your training. Dismissed."

The children were herded off to the barracks. Many had to be shaken out of their stupor of seeing an armored Spartan.

"God, were we like that?" Linda asked.

"No," Mendez said. "You were more shocked hearing that you could never go home."

"Then let's work them, make them think of this place as a home," Fred said. "Tomorrow, boot starts."

"Sir," Kelly saluted.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Cameron gasped at the armored giant. He was standing impossibly straight, the golden reflectiveness of his faceplate making him look like a god. Next to him stood others like him. Large, imposing, but possessing an air of gracefulness. The smaller ones standing on the side of the platform were even stranger. They seemed to blend into the air around them, more ghosts than shining green tanks.

The man spoke to them, to her, telling her that she would be a soldier, a soldier like him. Suddenly that was all that Cameron wanted, to wear that green armor and stand heads above the people surrounding her, to never feel the ants running across her skin when something wasn't perfect. When the man holding her shoulder tried to get her to move, she resisted until he dragged her off to the building. They shoved her in with the other children.

"This is your cot, trainee. Remember it," the tough man said. "You're number is 016. Remember that, too.

Cameron nodded. The man pushed her to the bed.

"Lights up at six o'clock. Better sleep, trainee," he said before walking away. Cameron sat on her bed.

"Psst." She looked up. A girl with a flat face was trying to get her attention. "What's your name?"

"Cameron."

"I'm Bridget."

"We're gonna be like that," Cameron said excitedly.

"Are you sure?"

"Of course. He said so."

"But what about the other kids?" Bridget asked. "Will they be like him, too?"

"I don't know," Cameron admitted. "They have to be. They're here, right?"

"I guess. But where's 'here?'"

"I don't know." Cameron turned to the boy next to her. "Do you know where we are?"

"No," he said. "Don't you?"

"Both of us don't."

"I'm scared," he said, hugging his knees. "I've never been away from home before."

"What's your name?"

"Roc."

"I'm Cameron. That's Bridget."

"Hi," Roc waved at Bridget. She waved back. "Do you know where we are?"

"No."

"I'm scared. Where are my parents?"

"You have parents?" Bridget asked.

"Don't you?"

"No. They died when I was smaller."

"Who took care of you?"

"An orphanage. They weren't very nice. Then the men came and took me away, and now I'm here."

"What about you?" Roc asked Cameron. "Did you have any parents?"

"I had a daddy, but he was always sad," Cameron said. "Some men told us that I could be the best hope for humanity, that I could save millions of people. Daddy didn't say anything, but I said yes."

"I wish they told my parents where I was," Roc said.

"Don't worry, they'll make us like that man."

"You mean Fredric?"

"That's his name?"

"Yes. Weren't you listening?"

Cameron shook his head.

"He seemed so cool."

"Lights out, trainees!" One of the men at the end of the building barked. Suddenly it was very dark.

"I hate the dark," Bridget whispered.

"Don't worry, we'll be here," Roc said. "We're friends, right?"

"Yea, friends."

* * *

Lucy looked out of the windows of the officer's lounge, watching the trainees running by. Kelly was leading them, and they looked like they were ready to fall over. A few did.

"How are the trainees doing?" Fred asked her.

"Okay."

"Some of them are having serious trouble keeping up with the others," Tom added. "They just aren't cut out to be Spartans."

"I concur with Chief Thomas," Demeter said, her holographic tree figure winking into existence. "My psychological reports say that they are giving their best efforts, but their best simply isn't enough."

"Half of them shouldn't be here," Fred said bitterly. "But we've been ordered to train them as best we can. Selection isn't part of our job description."

"Fredric, you cannot blame yourself for your lack of control over the situation," Demeter said. Lucy could see that Fred didn't like being called by his full name. "Your current performance should be commended, as the performance of your squad."

A medic jogged over to a fallen trainee. Lucy could tell it was heat exhaustion. Fred insisted on having the temperature set high; he claimed it would help with their training.

"Are they at least adjusting well?" Fred asked.

"To military?" Lucy said. "Better than training."

"That's good. The quicker they adjust, the better they'll be."

* * *

"Up, trainees!"

Cameron groaned as she tried to make herself wake up. She ended up stumbling out of bed instead.

"Come on, trainee, you call that getting up? A sloth moves faster than you! Up! Let's go!" The man, the marine, yelled at her. Cameron tried not to cry as she made herself walk forwards, along with everyone else in the barracks. The last time she cried, she got made fun of, not only by the man, no, the marine, but by the others as well. Only Roc and Bridget didn't make fun of her, although Roc never let her forget it.

They quickly made their beds. Cameron wasn't finished with hers when everyone else was.

"You think you're running a high-class hotel, trainee? Stop with the fidgeting and get on out of here," the man, the marine, barked. It all felt wrong to her, so sloppy. Her skin tingled like ants were crawling along her. She wanted to fix it so bad, but everyone was moving outside. She had to follow.

Still wearing their sweat clothes, which they slept in, they walked outside. The tingling ants were on her skin, trying to get Cameron to fix herself. Outside, the woman with red hair, Chief Kelly, was waiting for them, wearing her own sweat clothes.

"We'll be doing short run today," Chief Kelly said. "Fall in."

"Yes ma'am!" Cameron and her squad yelled. They had to say that now, or else they would all run more. They got in a line behind Chief Kelly, it was always 'Chief' now, or else they would run more, and began running. They did five laps, five miles, and Cameron wanted to die on the second. It would be much better than having to run more.

They stopped their run at the school building, and Cameron wanted to die all over again.

"Schooling today, recruits," Chief Kelly said. She had hardly broken a sweat. "If you get a warning from your teachers, you're out here running with me."

Cameron double-timed it up the stairs. At the front doors, a holographic AI greeted them. It wasn't Demeter, the tree woman, but rather Delta, a simple, plain woman. It was one of the many Dumb AIs that taught them.

"Classroom three, trainees," the Dumb AI said. Cameron led her teammates inside, least they get punished with more running. The classrooms were all the same, but Cameron knew the most comfortable seat. She sat in the second row, third from the left. As they all sat down, Delta appeared in the room.

"Today will mark the start of your tactical lessons," she said flatly. "You will begin with chess. How many of you know how to play chess?"

Roc and a few others raised their hands.

"Good. You will be asked for help throughout the day. To start, a review of the pieces." Holographic images of the pieces appeared in front of Delta. "This is a Pawn. They are the most plentiful. For their first move, they can move two spaces forward, but from then on, only one space. They can only move forward, and attack on diagonals. If they reach the opposite end of the board, they can become any piece on the board, short of a King. Next is the Knight…"

Cameron studied each holographic picture Delta showed her. It all seemed simple, much easier than algebra. She just hoped she could get all the pieces right.

"There are chess boards in the back of the room. Pair up, and begin playing."

Cameron realized that Chief Ash was watching them from the back of the room. It scared her that he could be that quiet and invisible, but also made her excited; she would eventually be like him.

"You think you can play?" Roc asked her as they got a board.

"I think I can."

"Good! Let's play."

Roc quickly set the board up. He gave Christy the black pieces.

"Hey, no fair. You know how to play," she said.

"Fine, you can start first," Roc said, turning the board around. "Better?"

"I'll see."

Cameron moved a pawn, and Roc quickly moved his own. Cameron thought he wasn't thinking of his moves, but he quickly proved her wrong.

"Check," Roc said proudly.

"Check?" Cameron asked.

"I'll take your king next turn. You have to protect it," he said.

Cameron could only block with her queen. He took it with his bishop.

"Checkmate," Roc said proudly.

"No fair," Cameron huffed.

"What, afraid of losing?"

"I just don't know how to play. You do."

"Yea, I guess it is," he said, relenting a bit. "You want to find someone who doesn't know how to play? I'll see if I can find someone who does."

"I'd like that," Cameron said, getting up from their table. Across the room, Ashley was looking around. Cameron pointed to her, and she nodded.

"Have you played before?" She asked, sitting down at the board.

"No," Ashley said. "I lost really quick."

"I did, too, but that's because Roc knows how to play," she said. "Which color do you want to be?"

Ashley took two pawns, one white and one black, and hid them in her hands. She shuffled them behind her back.

"Pick."

"Left."

The black pawn was in her hand. "You're black."

"Okay," Cameron said, setting up the board. This way of picking pieces seemed much better than Roc giving her a color. Ashley moved her pawn, and Cameron did as well. She tried to keep her pieces together, but Ashley kept stealing them out from under her. Eventually she was down to two rooks, a knight and a pawn nearly at the end of the board.

"Checkmate," Ashley said.

"I don't get this game," Cameron said. "This isn't fun like gravball."

"I kind of like it," Ashley said. "You have to work for the fun."

"Maybe when I learn how to play," Cameron said.

"Want to play again?"

"Sure."

They set the board up again, this time with Cameron being white. She moved her pieces fast, playing near the edges, but was beat again.

"I don't get this game," she said.

"Time is up, trainees," Delta said, her holographic body shimmering into existence. "It is time for your history lessons."

* * *

Demeter flitted from program to program, her processes restless. The humans were just so _interesting_. Just when she thought she could fully understand them, categorize them, they always found ways to surprise her. She had suggested to Fredrick that he should constantly switch the composition of the teams, something that he was loath to do, as his training was all about the small, tight knit unit. But he had relented, agreeing with her superior logic; change the teams, and get the trainees used to each other, the way they work and operate. She used this excuse to put Theodore in as many squads as she could, all with different results, yet eerily predictable.

One thing was certain: Theodore scared everyone. Even Linda, who was never bothered by anything, seemed to be put off by him. She would monitor him whenever she could, and the things she learned were astounding. He would whisper and giggle to himself when by himself, but was incredibly functional when in the presents of others. The whispering and giggling would stop, he would look a person in the eye, and he would become incredibly social and charismatic.

No matter what squad he was put into, the other members would treat him as an outsider, one they would include merely because they had to. How were they 'weirded out' by him, as Chief Thomas put it? Demeter had diagnosed Theodore hundreds of times, but lacked specific data on his mental stability to properly assess him. The psychiatrists aboard Infinity were also useless; Theodore seemed to enjoy playing games with them. One would diagnose him as a paranoid delusional, while another would diagnose him as agoraphobic, and yet another would say he was a perfectly normal boy.

Cameron was still another fascinating study. She suffered from a mild case of Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, but was remarkably functional. She participated in the same exercises, drills and lessons, and never had an outburst, a nervous breakdown, or any other detrimental mental stress. She still unconsciously picked at things, such as her clothes and hair, and begged for more time to wash, but considering how detrimental other cases of OCD were, she was a remarkable specimen.

But what was most incredibly were all of the trainees. They were children, yet being treated as adults, acting as adults, as smart as adults, and what was more, were soldiers. The changes were swift and sudden; Demeter could re-watch the footage of their long training periods endlessly and still find some new facet of information to pull from it. She knew the end result of the training, Fredrick and the other Spartans were that, but she was witnessing it happen. She had so many exciting theories and the relevant data to back them up, she could write a dissertation.

No, a dissertation wouldn't be enough. She could write an entire book, a catalog. Suddenly Demeter found her purpose. She would work with the humans, watch them, document them, and find out how they worked. It would be her magnum opus, but even that would be of a small microcosm of humanity; a secluded spot where only a few humans were. It was perfect, it was flawed. Her processes sped up, her clock speed and temperature rose; she was excited.

How strange and wonderful these humans were. She had recorded every second of their interactions. The files she recorded were huge, documenting every moment aboard the Infinity, but she couldn't bear to part with the smallest second. She would figure these humans out, even if it drove her to rampancy.

* * *

"Up!"

It never got easier. Cameron thought it would but she always went to sleep completely drained, and didn't feel better in the morning. She pushed herself out of bed and stumbled up.

"Wakey, wakey, trainee," the marine said. "You ready for another big day?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Now get out of here and start running."

But her bed wasn't made. She knew the marine would never let her fix it, and the ants crawled. They jogged outside, where Chief Kelly was waiting for them. Did she ever sleep?

"Five miles. Let's go," Chief Kelly said. Did she ever get tired? Cameron gasped as they ran. She still wanted to die, and the ants danced on her skin; she didn't have time to properly make her bed, and her clothes were all wrong, crumpled from sleeping in them, and she was dirty, grimy, covered in sweat. The run seemed to end sooner than she expected, and they were in front of the school house.

"More work with chess today, trainees," Chief Kelly said. "On the double, or you'll be running another five miles with me."

Cameron made sure she was the first one into the school. They found their classroom and sat down. She had enough time to run her hands through her hair.

"Good morning, trainees," Delta said, shimmering into existence. Cameron made herself put her hands down. Her hair still wasn't right, and her clothes were such a mess. She wanted to change.

"Today we'll be learning about basic chess strategies," Delta said. "This will help you with your games, so pay attention. Some of you have learned it yesterday during a game. If the king and the king's side rook have not moved, and there is no piece in between them, they may perform a move known as a 'castle.'"

Cameron paid rapt attention. She didn't want to lose anymore. It annoyed her more than the ants crawling on her skin when something wasn't just right.

"The game boards are in the back of the room again. You may go play."

Cameron found Bridget as she was getting a board.

"You want to play?"

"I'm not very good," Bridget said.

"I haven't won a game yet."

"That makes me feel better," Bridget smiled. "Let's play."

Cameron showed Bridget how Ashley chose colors, and Bridget picked black. Cameron tried a few of the moves and strategies that Delta showed her, but Bridget ended up winning.

"Want to try again?" Bridget asked.

"Yea, I think I'm getting the hang of it," Cameron said.

"Stop playing with your sweatshirt, it's annoying."

Cameron realized she was tugging at it, trying to get the creases out. She put her hands on the table as they started the next game. Cameron tried every trick that Delta showed them, but Bridget still ended up winning, and by a greater amount of pieces than last time.

"I hate this game."

"Are you having trouble, trainee 016?" Delta said, appearing by her side.

"I can't win this game," Cameron said. "Everyone always beats me."

"You have only played four games; it is too soon to tell if you are bad, or simply do not know how to play the game."

"I'm bad at it," Cameron insisted. "I've paid attention to everything you said, and done things everyone else has told me, and I can't understand the game."

"It is too soon to tell, trainee 016," Delta said. The Dumb AI didn't have vocal inflictions, but Cameron knew when she was getting yelled at. "You will be given additional reading information on chess strategies and techniques. You will be expected to read it for tomorrow's lesson. Is that clear?"

"Yes, ma'am," Cameron said, pouting. She even had to address an AI as 'ma'am.'

"The tone in your voice suggests you are displeased with the course of action. Correct your tone, trainee 016, or you will face disciplinary actions."

"Yes, ma'am," Cameron said again, this time keeping her voice flat and sharp.

"Much better, trainee," Delta said. "Continue your lesson. You should be able to finish one last additional game before we move onto history lessons."

* * *

"Are you learning anything?" Bridget asked, sitting on her bunk.

"I think so," Cameron said. She held the data slate with slack hands. "There are so many things to learn about this game."

"Chief Fred says we have to fight with our minds before we can fight with our bodies," Roc said from her other side. "You're getting used to fighting with your head, so you'll fight better with your body."

"Aren't we supposed to call him Chief Fredrick?" Bridget asked.

"He hates being called 'Fredrick,'" Roc said. "Ever notice how none of the other Chiefs call him that? It's always 'Fred.' Not even Chief Mandez calls him that."

"Why don't they have last names?" Cameron asked. "Mandez has one."

"Maybe they don't need one," Roc said. "You never called your parents by their last names, did you?"

Cameron was about to respond when she realized she hadn't thought about her dad, her old life, since the training began. How long was she here? Would she see her family again?

"I don't remember," she said.

"I don't remember, either," Roc said, realization dawning on him. "When will we see our families again?"

"But we _are_ family," Bridget said. "All of us. You, me, Cameron, everyone in our squad, we're a family. That's how it was in the orphanage." She looked at them cautiously. "We are family, aren't we?"

"Of course we are," Cameron said. "I like you guys better than all of other kids I knew back…home? Before I came here."

"But don't you have a family at the orphanage you came from?" Roc asked her.

"No one liked me," Bridget said. "I was too big, too fast, too strong or too smart. They didn't like me, they left me out of everything. They made me feel not wanted, the odd one out. I hated it there."

"You're not too fast," Cameron said.

"That's because Ted is faster."

"And scarier. He talks to himself."

"I don't like him," Roc says. "Is he part of our family?"

Bridget thought for a second. "I don't know. He's really scary, mumbling and giggling and talking to himself, but he's good at pretty much everything. He's good to have on a team."

"So he's a teammate and not part of the family?" Cameron asked. "How would he like that?"

"I think he doesn't mind being alone," Roc says. "He eats with people, but is never really part of anything."

"Let's not talk about Ted," Cameron said.

"Lights out, trainees!" A marine said at the end of the barracks. Suddenly it was very dark.

"Yea, let's not talk about him," Bridget said. "Night."

* * *

The morning run was getting better. Cameron only wanted to die at the last two miles, not at the first two.

"Back to the chess boards, trainees," Chief Kelly said before breaking off on another run. She ran much faster without them than with them. Cameron wanted to be just like her.

"Today we will be learning more advanced chess tactics," Delta said. "Let's start with the Queen's Gambit."

Cameron read about the Queen's Gambit last night, but paid attention regardless. She might have missed something that Delta wouldn't.

"Go to the boards," Delta said as she finished the lesson. Cameron went to the boards, but most were taken.

"Hey Cameron, want to play?" Her blood froze a bit as Ted walked up to her, holding a board. "I don't know how to play well, either."

"Sure," she said, sitting down. They set up the board and began playing, Ted having picked the black pawn. Cameron thought she was doing well until Ted took her queen, driving her into a corner for checkmate.

"That was fun," he said, smiling widely. "Want to play again?"

Cameron was sick and tired of playing chess, and Ted's smile drove her crazy. It was too wide, too large, and his teeth too shiny. The ants that crawled on her skin danced.

"Sure," she said, almost hissing through clenched teeth. She set the board up in blinding speed. This time, she traded Ted's pieces for her pieces. Pawn fell to pawn, knight to knight, bishop to bishop. She moved with reckless speed, even trading her queen for Ted's queen. All through the game, he never smiled, always trying to figure out what to do against her.

Soon, Cameron was down to her rooks and king. She blocked Ted's surviving pawn from becoming another queen, and started moving against his remaining knight and bishop. She claimed the bishop and moved her king forward, pinning his to the edge of the board.

"Well?" She asked, waiting for him to move.

"That's checkmate," Ted said with a hint of anger in his voice. "Kings can't go within three spaces of each other, and I'm in check. That's mate."

"You mean I won?" Cameron asked. She didn't think about winning. She just wanted to wipe Ted's grin off his face.

"Yea, you won," he said with less grace.

"Oh. Cool."

"It was cool," Bridget said. Cameron didn't know she was being watched. "What were you doing?"

"I…uh, I was just moving pieces," she said.

"You traded pieces, more like," Bridget said. "You took away everything Ted had."

"You want to play her?" Ted asked.

"Sure," Bridget said. "Play that way again."

They both set the board up and began playing. Cameron moved slower, but still traded pieces. She even got Bridget's knight and bishop with one rook before losing it. Quickly, she was down to a knight, rook and bishop, while Bridget had a rook and a knight. She was able to move all of her pieces, even her king, against her, and won.

"See? You're learning," Bridget said.

"That wasn't in the book I read," Cameron said. "I just traded pieces."

"That strategy you used was called 'attrition,'" Delta said, appearing by them. "The act of gradually reducing the strength or effectiveness of an enemy's army through sustained attack. The connotation being that you are sacrificing your own army to destroy another's."

"Cool," Cameron said, grinning.

"In real life warfare, such a thing is best avoided at all costs," Delta said.

"But here, I won for once. Twice!"

"That is true, trainee 016."

"Look out, the Attrition Queen found her game," Ted said. Cameron grinned. She didn't care if he was making fun of her, she was finally winning.

* * *

Cameron didn't mind running the next day. She got to play chess.

"Checkmate," she said, moving her remaining rook into place.

"Man," Roc groaned. "How did you get so good?"

"I found the way to play," she said cheerfully.

"Alright then, best two out of three," he said. "I'll do my best to stop you."

Within a few moves, Cameron saw that Roc was using her own tactic against her. They happily swapped pawns and knights, until Cameron saw that he was treasuring his bishops. She chased them down, losing one of her own in the process, until she took them out of the game. Roc gritted his teeth and tried to get a few quick 'checks' against her with his rooks, but she was able to grab one with her own. Soon, it was her remaining bishop and rook against his pawn and queen. She traded her rook for the queen, and pinned his king against the edge of the board.

"Checkmate," she said happily.

"Man, Ted was right to call you the Attrition Queen," he said. "Good game."

"Thanks."

"Let me play," Ashley said, walking up to her. "I've gotten pretty good, I'm sure I can beat you."

"Bring it on," Cameron said.

She couldn't match Cameron's new technique.

"How did you do that?" Ashley said, looking at the board, trying to figure out where she went wrong.

"It's easier to use a few pieces," Cameron said. "I just get rid of the pieces that I don't need."

"Yea, and mine with yours."

"All the better," she smiled.

* * *

"She shows great promise as a team leader," Demeter said. Fred paced the officer's lounge. Everyone was sitting at the table, reading over the reports. Demeter's holographic figure was changing to red, brown and yellow, with the tips of her fingers and hair wilting. Fred figured that it must be autumn on Earth, and she was acting accordingly.

"With what, getting all of her men killed?" He asked.

"She uses fewer pieces better than she uses all of her pieces," Demeter said. "She would be a great leader of a small team, something Spartans have specialized in."

"We don't have a small enough team for her to lead," Linda said. "She'll be mismatched with a team that doesn't fit her command style."

"Jesus, we're not asking her to lead an assault team into Covenant space, we're asking her to lead a squad," Mendez groaned. "She's still a child, for God's sake. Right now, she's just naturally charismatic, and only knows some chess tactic. She'll learn new ways to lead, better ways to command her troops. That's why they call it 'learning.' John didn't start out as the leader you know him as, he head to learn it."

"Chief Mendez does have a valid point," Demeter said. Her avatar's eyes grew wide for a split second, and she shut her mouth with surprising finality. Fred wondered what she was keeping to herself.

"You think she'll grow into her role as a leader?" He asked.

"Of course she will. She has all the aptitudes for it; we just need to teach her."

"Then let's make her squad leader."

* * *

The wake-up klaxon sounded. Before she knew what was happening, Cameron's feet were on the floor, and she was walking past her bed.

"Up! Everyone up!" She yelled.

The trainees around her were already toeing the line at their bunks, ready for their morning exercise. Chief Kelly stood at the head of the barracks, two meters from Cameron, standing at ease, already dressed for physical training. The ants crawled as she tried not to look at her messy bed.

"Ready, trainees?" Kelly called.

"Ready ma'am!"

"Fall out."

Kelly lightly jogged out of the barracks, the platoon of trainees following her. Cameron and the others had to struggle to keep up with Chief Kelly's casual pace. She lead them around the training center's perimeter three times, finishing their five mile run in forty minutes. Cameron was drenched in sweat, but was feeling great.

"Hit the gym, trainees," Chief Kelly ordered as they finished their run. Cameron lead her platoon into the gym, a step behind Chief Kelly.

Not to her surprise, Chief Mendez was already there, and in the middle of his work out. His hair seemed to have grown thinner, but he was still as solidly built as Roc.

"Heavy rotation today, Trainees," Mendez ordered. Cameron was always surprised to see how evenly he spoke, despite sweating as much as she was. "I want everyone here sore from their maxes."

"Yes, sir," Cameron and her platoon chorused. Bridget moved to her side as Cameron walked through the gym, stopping at the leg press machine.

"A hundred and ten kilos sound like a good warm up?" Cameron asked.

"Sure."

Taking turns, the two worked through their sets, and moved onto a rowing machine. Cameron's body burned as she pushed herself beyond her limits. She loved the feeling, even if she would spend the rest of the day trembling from the exertion.

Once the entire platoon had finished every machine, she approached Chief Mendez, who was finished himself and working on paperwork.

"Sir, Victor Platoon reporting PT is done, sir."

"Good," Chief Mendez said. "Report to the rifle range. Chief Linda wants to test your marksmanship."

"Sir. Fall out, Victor Platoon."

They lightly jogged to the end of the training field and into the corridors of the UNSC Infinity. Technicians and trainers moved to let them by. A half mile later, they reached the rifle range. Chief Linda was working with Chief Lucy, cleaning their rifles.

"Ma'am, Victor Platoon reporting for marksmanship training, ma'am."

"Good." Linda looked up from her rifle, her emerald eyes as piercing as the first day Cameron met her. "Assemble your rifles and run ten tests as warm up. I'll evaluate you when you're ready."

Roc was already opening the armory when Cameron stepped back into line.

"Think you could beat Anna?" He asked.

"She's a crack shot. I'll be lucky to match her."

"Where's your competitive spirit?"

"'Only an idiot fights when he knows he can't win,'" she said, quoting Chief Kelly.

"What if this was your order?"

"Then I'd fail my order," Cameron said. She took a quick moment to examine herself in the armory's safety glass. Her almost non-regulation length hair was a mess. She tried to casually run her fingers through her hair to get the worst of it out, but despite herself, she ended up going over it four times as she carried her rifle to her station.

"I'm telling you, just shave it all off if it's bothering you," Bridget said as Cameron situated herself next to her.

"Can't. It'll take forever to grow out again, and I like it how it is."

"You mean you don't want to."

"And?"

"Just stop worrying about your looks. The enemy won't give you a break because your hair looks pretty."

"It would be nice, though," Cameron chuckled, loading her M392 designated marksman rifle. It felt like ants were crawling all over her scalp, begging her to fix her hair, but she was able to bury the feeling. Soon, she and the rest of her platoon were ready for Chief Linda's exercise.

"Think she'll make us snipe flies again?" Roc asked.

"Only Anna."

"Serves her right for being our best shot."

Cameron chuckled.

"Today, you'll be working on rapidly moving targets," Chief Linda said, walking along the firing line. "Chief Lucy and I will be changing the perimeters as we see fit. If you're doing well, don't worry, that will change. The loser will have to clean the armory's weapons after mess tonight."

Chief Linda was always harsh on them. Cameron took a quick chance to brush her hair out of the way, loaded a fresh clip of ammunition, and got ready. The targets came quick and fast, faster than Cameron could accurately hit. She cursed herself for missing, but figured that it meant that she was good; if she was bad, Linda would have given her easier targets.

* * *

"Good morning, Vice Admiral Osman."

"Good morning, Black Box." Serin sat at her table. "What's our schedule like today?"

"There has been more reports of instability among the radical groups in the Covenant," the AI replied, his blue box avatar floating over the mahogany table. "While they are nowhere near Sanghelios, they are occurring with more frequency."

"But as long as they don't happen anywhere near the head of state, they won't amount to much."

"That is the consensus among the Admirals."

"How is their plotting?"

"They believe they are acting in complete secrecy," Black Box said. "I've gathered quite the dossier on their dirty little secrets."

"Good. I'll need those when they make a move towards my position as Director of ONI." Serin grabbed the data slate and powered it on, flicking through the various reports.

"It appears the SPARTAN-V training is progressing smoothly."

"Did I ask you about the V program?" Serin said, annoyance in her voice.

"My dear, they might as well be your next-of-kin," the AI chuckled. "I figured you would want to know how they were doing, after you've checked on their progress so much yourself."

"Getting a simple update is not obsessively checking up on them."

"But having it be one of the rare files you save on your personal tablet and re-reading it certainly counts."

"If I catch you snooping in my personal data again, I will have you zeroed out," Serin said, this time making sure to keep her voice flat.

"It's good to know you care," the AI said pleasantly.

"Give me more information on the Covenant situation."

"Our team of anarchists are still making their weapon deliveries. I'd imagine the Covenant would to get more weapons from us in our righteous quest to destabilize their controlled space."

"Are they asking for more?"

"Ms. Osman, you were the first to make the drops; they always want more," BB said. "The question is whether or not we're going to give it to them."

Serin read the report, then read it again. She frowned.

"Shall I make some ginger tea?"

"No, thank you. BB, start throttling down our weapon shipments."

"I'm sorry?"

"I don't want those hinge heads getting more and more weapons," Serin said. "We're giving them so much it might start losing effectiveness."

"I fail to see how giving them less weapons would make them more aggressive."

"It's like building a fire; put too much wood on it, and it would smother the flame."

"You're suggesting that we let a false weapon shortage made the Sangheilis believe that they would need to act now, before the weapons are possibly stolen."

"Exactly. Besides, I don't want to repeat history."

"Now you're talking about the United States in the 1980's, giving weapons and training to terrorist organizations, only to fight said organizations in the early 2000s, correct?"

"I don't want them using those weapons against humans, BB."

"That is a fair cause for worry. What shall I have our Kilo Six gun runners tell them?"

"Have them come up with their own excuse. Tell them we're cracking down on manufacturing, or it's getting harder to run guns out of UNSC space, I don't care."

"Very well. I'm sending the report now."

"Good."

"And for the record, the SPARTAN-Vs are three months away from augmentation."

"That was unnecessary, BB."

"You're welcome."

* * *

Cameron stood at rigid attention. Lieutenant Fred walked along their lines, his dress uniform immaculate as always, examining their uniforms. He stopped in front of Cameron.

"Trainee, why is your name tag crooked?"

"Sir, this trainee was not aware that her tag was crooked, sir."

"Do you have a crooked head then, trainee?"

"Sir, this trainee does not believe so, sir."

Lieutenant Fred turned to her squad mate Roc.

"Does her head took crooked, trainee?"

"Sir, this trainee cannot spot any abnormality—"

The Lieutenant's shoulder exploded in red.

"Sniper!" Cameron yelled, throwing herself at Fred. She couldn't normally tackle the almost seven-foot tall Spartan, so she hit him in the hip. With his center of gravity out from under his legs, Fred quickly fell to the ground. Cameron covered him with her body.

"Sniper! Everyone move! Get a perimeter around the LT. Roc, get the team together, cover our left flank. Jerry, your team covers the right flank. Bridget, get a first aid kit and assess the LT."

Roc lead her team into action while the rest of the squads fell into line. The Lieutenant was down for less than three seconds and there was already a wall of bodies protecting him. Bridget ran forward with her first aid kit, her broad, squat face blank as always. She pulled out the data slate to assess his injuries.

"Clean penetration on his shoulder," she said. "I'll apply bandages. He needs a surgeon, I don't have the equipment to properly treat him."

There was another crack. Cameron looked up, just in time to see Jerry fall, a red stain square on his chest.

"The sniper hasn't bugged out yet. Bridget, are we clear to move the Chief?"

"Just be careful."

Three other trainees stepped forward to grab the Chief's arm and legs. Cameron held his right arm in as tight a grip as she could.

"Move him to the flag pole, create a stretcher. Ready? One, two, three, lift."

As one, the teenagers lifted the Chief. Bridget was assessing Jerry, who lay face down on the ground.

"We have a KIA," she said.

"Insignificant. We need to cover ourselves and get the LT out of here," Cameron said. They gently lowered Fred onto the platform. "Anna, take over Jerry's team. Find that sniper. Roc, take the team with her. Bridget, do anything you have to do to get the LT ready for extraction. Louise, secure a ride out of here."

Cameron lowered the green Spartan flag to use as a stretcher.

"Anyone see any poles we can use?"

"Negative."

"Then we carry the Chief by hand. Keep that perimeter up, dammit." An explosion made Cameron cringe. "What was that?"

"The Warthog exploded. Louise is KIA," Bridget said.

"This place is compromised, assume all vehicles are rigged to blow."

"How do we get the Lieutenant out of here, ma'am?" Bridget asked.

"We'll do it the hard way."

The unseen sniper rifle cracked again, and another Spartan fell on top of Bridget.

"They're targeting our medic. Provide cover for her. If she gets fragged, the LT is FUBAR," Cameron snapped. Her team carried the body off and stood tighter. Cameron's mind spun as she tried to figure out what to do.

"Orders?"

"Alright, let's play this safe. We carry the Chief through that tree line, giving us some cover from our sniper. Paul, take your team to the rest of the Warthogs. I don't want our assassin to take us out in an explosion, so trigger them before we're in range."

"Ma'am," Paul said, breaking off of the group to do his duty.

"Lift on my mark. Three, two, one, mark." The group lifted and began walking towards the tree line. The three other Warthogs exploded. "What's his status?"

"It looks like his aorta was clipped, he's bleeding uncontrollably," Bridget said, reading from the data pad. "He needs a surgeon now."

"You heard the lady. Move faster, Spartans."

The door to the area lay twenty meters ahead of them. Cameron was breathing heavily. There had to be one more twist, there just had to be. The door slid open, and they walked through it. Chief Mendez greeted them.

"Good job, Spartans. Simulation is over."

Cameron set Lieutenant Fred down, who stood up and mopped the paint pellet off his uniform.

"Total run time of simulation: seven minutes and sixteen seconds," Demeter said from the comm system. "Congratulations, Trainee Cameron. You now hold the record for completing the mission."

"That was well done, Platoon Leader," Fred said, agreeing with the AI.

"Sir." Cameron snapped a crisp salute. "Thank you, sir."

"Do you know how many you lost?"

"Sir, I lost seven, sir."

"Was it necessary to detonate those Warthogs?"

"Sir, the area was compromised. If I didn't order them to be detonated, they could have been used as mines, or could have even be rigged to operate remotely, turning them into unmanned suicide bombers. It was a necessary risk, sir."

"And did you think that those Spartans could have received concussions from those stun grenades? They are UNSC property, and I don't want to have damaged goods."

"Sir, I stand by my belief that it was a necessary risk, sir."

Fred stared at her, waiting to see her crack. Cameron held her head higher.

"It's good to see that you acted fast," he finally said. "You controlled the elements as best as you could. But could you live with yourself, sending your men off to their deaths?"

"Sir, we completed the mission, sir."

"Of course you did."

Chief Mendez stepped forward.

"Sir, requesting permission to debrief the Platoon Leader."

Fred and Mendez traded looks. Cameron could tell that they were thinking the same thing. She just couldn't think of what that was.

"Granted, Chief." Fred turned to the rest of her team. "Everyone else, back into the parade ground. I want that area policed, and every injured soldier accounted for."

"Yes sir."

"Walk with me," Mendez said. Cameron was quick to follow as the Chief walked down the corridor. Even though he was easily in his sixties, Mendez walked just as fast as she did. Cameron wanted to be like him when she was a Spartan. "What did you think of the drill, Platoon Leader?"

"Sir, it was-"

"Drop the sir. This isn't a formal run-down, I want to talk with you."

"Understood. I thought it was a good scenario of a possible assassination attempt. Chief Linda purposely didn't finish the job, like a rookie sniper would, so she relied on contingency plans already put in place."

"And what did you think of it?"

"Sir?"

"How did it make you feel, ordering your men to their deaths?"

"I don't understand," Cameron said, trying not to mumble. What was the Chief getting at?

"Typical Spartan," Mendez snorted. "You remind me so much of him."

"By 'him,' do you mean the Master Chief?"

"Yes," Mendez said. Cameron felt a burst of pride. Her? Remind Mendez of the Master Chief? It was too good to be true. "Both of you started out as the ideal soldier, the best leader I could have ever hoped for. Strong, not only in body but in mind, you think fast on your feet and you have that natural leadership element. You'll be the perfect Spartan."

"Thank you, sir."

"But there's one major difference between you and the Chief." Cameron's heart started to drop. "The Chief was dead set on saving his troops, while you seem to be dead set sacrificing them."

"Sir, it was a legitimate strategy-"

"What do they call you?"

"Sir?"

"What do the other trainees call you? That nickname you got from chess."

"They call me the 'Attrition Queen,' sir."

"I've always been curious. Why do you take pride in that?"

"It was how I always won chess. I was never as smart as Roc, or Anna, or anyone else. That was how I won."

"And you never stopped to think that waging wars of attrition would be a bad thing?"

"Sir, they're two-dimensional puzzles. They don't take into account a soldier's skill, or equipment, or even terrain differences."

"You didn't answer my question."

"It never bothered me because that was how I won. And they respect me because I always win."

"So it never bothered you because of your results."

"Yes."

"And when you're a graduate and in the field? Would they follow you even then, when the bullets won't be paint rounds?"

"I'm sure of it, sir. We're all professional soldiers."

Mendez grunted. He stopped in front of a window, watching Foxtrot Platoon in their practice drill.

"What if your team was bogged down in trench warfare, like in World War One back on Earth?"

"Sir, our technology is too great to simply be bogged down-"

"Hypothetically."

"I'd find another way to win. Trench warfare is a no-win scenario."

"I doubt it."

"Sir?"

Mendez turned to Cameron.

"You're a brilliant leader and a good technician, trainee." Cameron stood straighter when Mendez used her title. "But the Chiefs and I, especially Fred, think that you're a one-trick-pony. All you seem able to do is lead your men to death, and then claim a pyrrhic victory."

Cameron burned with embarrassment.

"Respectfully, sir, the way the scenario was structured, there was no clear 'win' situation. People had to be sacrificed."

"You're thinking that the Warthogs would be remote controlled bombs if you didn't prematurely detonate them."

"Yes sir."

"Well, you're right."

* * *

"So what is the point of our talk then, sir, if I did the right thing?"

Mendez stared at Cameron.

"Fucking typical Spartan," he muttered. "Just like John in the beginning. Cameron, the universe is not a binary place. There is no clear right or wrong. You'd win the lottery if you found a clear moral dilemma. The point of this exercise was to teach you that sacrifices have to be made."

"Then given my reputation, was this exercise necessary?"

"No, it was not. Linda, Lucy and I voted against putting you through this, but Demeter was adamant that you had to perform. She has a reason, too: it was a lesson that also had to be made to your platoon as well. They have to know that following you, or any commander for that matter, could often lead to their deaths."

"Does this have to do with the augmentation procedure? Sir, I'm aware of the risks."

"For the first time, the trainees are," Mendez said. "John didn't know, Tom knew to an small extent, but the Spartan-V program is the first to be totally aware of this."

"And you, sir? Did they tell you in the Spartan-I program?"

Mendez seemed to stiffen.

"Orion. There was no Spartan-I project, only Orion. They told us about the risks, but never the fatality rate."

"Then we're lucky to know."

"Yes, yes you are."

"Are we done then, sir?"

"No, we're not. You need to drop the attrition stuff. It's your bread and butter, I know, but if you keep it up, you'll risk alienating your men."

"My men would never mutiny against me."

"Don't be so sure about that. Sacrificing every single soldier you have would look bad to the new recruits. And if you're put in charge of marines, they'll be even more hesitant to follow you."

"Is it the division between Spartans and marines?"

"That's the tip of the iceberg. You have a lot to learn, trainee. And a lot to live for. Don't let the augmentation process kill you."

"Understood, sir," Cameron saluted.

* * *

Mendez walked to the Officer's Lounge. Fred, Linda and Lucy were reading through the field reports. Kelly, Tom and Ash were organizing the procedural lists of the augmentation process.

"How did the talk go?" Fred asked without looking up from the report.

"Not well." Mendez sat down. "She's too bullheaded right now, too gung-ho."

"Just like him," Linda said.

"But not like him," Kelly added.

"Do we do?" Lucy asked in her quiet voice.

"The augmentation will change her," Ash said. "It has to."

"It will," Linda promised.

* * *

Cameron groaned, trying to stay awake. She reached for her bottle of water, but her arm was too long and it knocked it over. The nurse picked it up for her.

"It would be easier to simply fall asleep," he said.

"It seems too easy," she said. She ran her hands over her face, inwardly cringing at the pimples she felt. She wanted another acne pad, but they had taken those away from her long ago. The ants crawled across her skin, begging her to swat at them.

"It would also be easier to leave your face alone," the nurse said.

"Feels wrong."

"No shit. You've been pushed through seven years of puberty in under seven months. Seriously, leave your face alone."

Cameron pushed her arms to the side. The ants laughed.

"Will this go away when it's done?"

"You won't have to worry about acne as much."

"Good."

"Never would have imagined a Spartan would be so obsessed about her appearance."

"Ancient Greek Spartans made sure to look as best they could, least they die at any moment."

"So you're looking good for death?"

"Yes."

The nurse gave Cameron a nervous look. She chuckled at her slight victory.

"Just…just go to sleep," he said. "It'll be easier that way."

"I'll wake up a Spartan," Cameron sighed. "Or not at all. I can't wait."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Fred waited to hear the news. He had waited for thirty-six hours, and was ready to wait more. Kelly stayed with him in the Officer's Lounge while the others came and went. All were as quiet as Lucy was, who, strangely enough, was more talkative than Fred had ever seen her.

"They'll be fine," she said to him at the forty-one hour mark.

"I sure hope so."

"Better at it now."

Fred grunted.

"She's right," Kelly said. "We're using a combination of Spartan-III and –II augmentation, they should have a higher survival rate."

"I still don't like it. Any news, Demeter?"

"None," the AI said. Fred didn't like how she answered him; she was not known for curt responses. The fact that she didn't turn on her holographic projection made things more tense, and made him feel like she was watching them.

Kelly remained quiet. She knew how hard the augmentation process was. After all, she nearly didn't survive it. Minutes ticked by, and Lucy tried to comfort them. Soon the door opened and Chief Mendez walked in.

"They're all done," he said.

"And?"

"The half we were worrying about? They didn't make it."

"And the others?" Kelly asked.

"We'll know in a week how many have died. So far, only two have died."

Fred hissed, his hands closing into fists. "Half of those kid had no damn right being here."

"We did all that we could," Kelly assured him. "And the half we knew would make it did make it. That's better than our odds."

"It wasn't enough," Fred said. "If ONI followed Dr. Halsey's parameters, we wouldn't have these horrible wash out numbers."

"Speculative thinking would not help you now," Demeter said, this time turning on her hologram. The leaves that made up her hair were a withered brown, falling off and slowly leaving her bald. Fred assumed it was her way of mourning. "Fredric, you did the best you could with the trainees provided to you. You and your Spartans were not the ones put in charge of selection."

"It should have been," Fred insisted. "We know exactly what the trainees are going through, not the ONI pencil pushers."

Linda looked at Fred. She was thinking something, but Fred couldn't put his finger on it.

"I need to go for a walk," he said, standing up. "Let me know when the process is over."

* * *

Cameron couldn't stop crying. She tried to contain herself, to hold herself together, but she just couldn't. Not even the ants, with all their running and tickling and prodding, could get her to stop and compose herself. Her entire body wasn't cooperating. Even if she could stop crying, she could barely walk or even move; her entire body seemed too big, too long, and far too sensitive. She would think and her arm would shoot out, knocking anything over. And she was so strong she would bend the hospital's silverware or crush a tray.

And with her crying, everything was amplified, out of control. Two-thirds of Victor Platoon were dead, including Roc. He had been by her side for her entire life, covering her six, providing support, and being the best friend she could ever imagine.

She had let them down. She didn't tell them what they needed to know, angles to watch out for, tricks to spot. She was sure of it. And she just couldn't stop crying, dammit.

There was a knock at her door and Chief Mendez walked in.

"May I?" He asked.

"Sir. Please," Cameron choked. Her eyes were not only red from crying, but also red from the augmentation, and she would often wipe tears of blood from her face. "What did I miss, sir? W-what didn't I tell them?"

Mendez sighed, like he was thinking of what to tell her.

"Sir, w-we were told that th-the augmentation was safer," Cameron said, begging Mendez to speak. "Why d-did so many of us die? Why?"

Mendez was wrestling with himself. Cameron could see it on his face. With a muted snarl, he turned to her.

"Trainee Cameron, do you really want to know?" He asked.

"Yes, sir. Why?" Cameron sobbed.

"This is rated as a 'need to know' authorization, and you do not need to know. You will not share this piece of information with anyone, understand?"

"Yes, sir." Cameron threw away another used, bloodied Kleenex.

"Half of the Spartan-V program were not within the genetic parameters set by the Spartan-II program."

"What?" Cameron's mind swum. "B-but the augmentations. There were risks."

"It was the believe of ONI that they would be able to correct many of the errors with the augmentation process, allowing more Spartans to be created. As you can tell, they failed."

"Then why d-did they die? Did they die for nothing?"

"That would be the idea, Trainee."

"Roc died for nothing?" Suddenly, Cameron was getting angry. "T-they sent half of us t-to our deaths _for nothing_?"

"Get ahold of yourself, Trainee!" Mendez snapped. "You know that the commanders at ONI are human, like everyone else. It was a mistake that they made, a mistake that they thought they could enlarge the genetic pool and still have near-perfect survival ratings from the augmentation."

Cameron was glaring at Mendez.

"I said _drop it_, Trainee," he snarled. Suddenly Cameron was a little child, scared of the far older Chief. The ants stopped crawling, and she unconsciously sobbed. "I had no say in the matter. Nor did Chief Fred, or any of the other Chiefs for that matter. It was our duty to prepare you for this, and we did our duty as best we could, even though we objected with the genetic pool ONI gave us."

"W-will you do this for the n-next Spartan group?" Cameron asked.

"Not if we have any say in the matter."

* * *

Fred walked into his office and opened a few files. They were dummy files, containing old or useless information; they were to make him look busy, nothing more. As the commander of the SPARTAN-V program, he was constantly kept informed on a wide variety of issues, namely the progress of the trainees, on a daily basis. But he had a rank, and with that rank came responsibilities and expectations. It was expected of him that he be an effective commander, and have a desk, no matter how much he hated the damn thing.

He sat down and scattered the papers across his desk, put his data slate on an angle, and began copying information from the slate. He was sitting at his desk for a minute when his slate chimed, and Demeter popped into existence.

"Trainee 016 is here to see you, sir," she said.

"Send her in," Fred said. Demeter winked back out of existence, and a moment later, there was a token, polite knock at the door, and Cameron walked in.

"Sir," she said, saluting. Fred was glad to see her recovering from the augmentation process, especially the shock of losing over half of her squad.

"At ease, trainee," he said, still writing. "What do you want to talk about?"

"I wish to resign as squad leader, sir."

This got Fred's attention. He put down his pen.

"Why would you want to do that?" He asked.

"Sir, I believe that I am unfit for command," Cameron said. "My tactics are not suited for leading a group of soldiers, regardless of size, and I fear that I will jeopardize, and sacrifice, their lives needlessly."

Fred fixed her with a hard look. Cameron stood there, steely eyed. She was dead set on resigning.

"What gives you that impression?"

"Sir, you know my reputation," Cameron said. "I've always won through acts of attrition, sacrificing pieces in chess, men in war games. With all due respect, sir, you know this about me. The final test before…before the augmentation, you saw me send my men off to their 'deaths.' I can't lead them, not without killing them."

"Am I talking to Cameron, Trainee 016, or the Attrition Queen?" Fred asked.

Cameron almost flinched.

"Do you know why we made you squad leader?"

"No, sir, I do not."

"Because you can lead," he said. "How did you win in chess?"

"Through attrition, sir," Cameron said. She sounded tired, resigned.

"No, not through attrition, although it got you where you needed to be. Attrition, as you know, is a zero-sum game: you cannot win because you don't have the troops necessary to win, and neither does your opponent. You won because you had better control of your pieces, your men. You won with a small selection of pieces, and your opponents couldn't stop you."

"Because I had taken most of their pieces through attrition," Cameron said.

"You're missing the point, Trainee," Fred said. "You can control a small squad more efficiently than you could a platoon. And that's what makes you valuable. In chess, you would take pieces, and save the ones that you needed to finish the game. You analyzed your opponents, and got the pieces necessary to beat them. That is what makes you valuable. Do you understand?"

"I'm a good leader because I can beat my opponents with a smaller task force?" Cameron said.

"That's what we saw in you," Fred said.

"But what about taking command of a larger group of soldiers?" She asked.

"That's what the chain of command is for" Fred said. "You won't be put in charge of planning whole assaults, or campaigns. I never was, hell, John never was, either."

"You mean the Master Chief?"

"I do. It wouldn't surprise me if he wasn't capable of planning an entire war; that takes a special breed of soldier. And even then, it isn't a one-person job; there are entire committees whose only job is to plan a war.

"We need soldiers like you, someone who can understand what the enemy is doing, and create the perfect counter-response with the tools they have available on hand. You're a good soldier, Cameron, you could be a great one, but don't think that you're useless, or a one-trick pony. We think you have plenty of room to grow, and become better. Do you understand what I am saying?"

"But sir, Chief Mendez told me that you and him both thought I was a one-trick pony."

"I can't speak for Mendez, but I thought you were young and bullheaded," he said. "You had great potential, but you stuck with one trick that you knew would work. A one-trick pony? Yes, but only because you never bothered to learn another trick. So you better work at learning new tricks, understand?"

"I think I do, sir."

"Good. Then that means you'll have to work hard to learn that new trick or two. Think you're up for the challenge?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Now get out of my office."

Cameron saluted, turned on her heel, and walked out. She thought about what Chief Fred had said; she felt good knowing that the Chiefs believed in her, wanted her to become better. And, for better or worse, the augmentation finally taught her the danger of attrition.

* * *

The gym was quiet as Kelly paced back and forth. Neither Fred nor Linda spoke.

"Do you think they'll recover quick?" She asked.

"They're recovering faster than us," Linda pointed out.

"The joys of not being the original guinea pigs," Kelly spat.

"Stow that, Spartan," Fred snapped. "We have our jobs to do."

"Understood." It had been three weeks after the augmentation, and no one had wanted to remember those weeks. The memorial ceremony had been especially hard. Most of the surviving trainees were unable to stand by themselves.

And the crying. Cameron had done her best, staying as quiet as she could, but seeing half of the wash-outs, two-thirds of her squad, was too much for her. It seemed infectious, and soon the rest of the Spartan-Vs were crying, most silently, but the odd one choking out a sob. Even the emotionless Ted was teary eyed.

Kelly understood, and even wanted to cry herself. Seeing that many good soldiers be shot into the void of space, all at the same time, was too much for anyone. What made it worse was that she could barely push the desire to cry away. In battle, she could easily push it under her; adrenaline would cover the initial shock of seeing such a massive loss of life, and the training would kick in once the fighting started again. In the Infinity, however, there was no battle, no adrenaline rush, no morphine to cut the pain. She had trained these kids, dammit. They were hers, her responsibility. And ONI had to give them the wrong kids to work with, and they paid the price.

"Kelly."

Kelly snapped back to reality. She blushed at having needed to be told twice to stop daydreaming.

"I know this is hard, but you have to stay focused," Fred gently said.

"I know," she said. The doors to the gym opened, and the newly reformed Victor Platoon walked in. Cameron was leading them, looking so steely eyed Kelly wondered if she really did mentally break.

"Victor Company, reporting for examinations, ma'am," Cameron said, snapping a crisp salute.

"At ease," Kelly said. She was glad to see that the trainees had already mostly recovered. Their actions were smoother, more sure of themselves. It was a good thing to see that they were not disregarding their exercises. "Today, we will be examining you to gauge your readiness to receive your Mjolnir armor. First, sprints. One hundred meters." Kelly nodded, and the Vs lined up against the wall of the gym.

Bridget was first. Her face, normally very broad and flat, was more shrunken from the augmentation. She looked like a wrongly chiseled statue, but seemed as solid as the very marble such a statue would be made from. She lined up in a three-point-stance.

Kelly keyed the stopwatch and dropped her hand. Bridget was off and running. Kelly nodded with approval as she finished. Bridget tried to stop, but her legs nearly gave way, and she slammed into the padded wall with a bang.

"Walk it off, trainee," Kelly said as Bridget got back to her feet. "You're still not at one-hundred percent."

"What was the time?" Linda asked.

"Nine-point-eight seconds."

"Not bad."

"Certainly better than most of the IVs. Next!"

Soon, everyone in Victor finished the sprints. They moved on to test reaction times, weight training, and finally onto sparring.

"They seem very good," Kelly said to Fred as the Vs lined up next to the boxing ring.

"Good," he said. "Now which one do you want to test?"

Kelly looked over the trainees. They all seemed exhausted, and with good reason. This was their first real workout since the augmentation. As she looked down the line, she finally saw Cameron. Her eyes almost seemed dead. She had a thousand-yard stare, but wasn't slouched over like a PTSD victim. She seemed energetic in body, but not in mind.

"Oh-one-six, you're up," Kelly called and Cameron instantly jumped up to the boxing ring.

"This is just a sparring match, Chief Kelly," Fred said. "Go easy on her. Fight for four minutes or until submission."

"Understood," Kelly said. She assumed a light fighting stance and advanced on Cameron. She immediately shot out with a line of punches. Kelly was pleased; Cameron seemed very fast on her feet. She didn't have to hold herself back too much.

Kelly responded with her own punches. Cameron blocked them and almost landed a high kick. Kelly ducked under her leg and moved in.

Suddenly, Cameron was jumping at her, trying to grab her by the neck of her work out shirt. Kelly knocked her hands aside, taking a step back. That was just what Cameron wanted; she shot for her legs, barely giving Kelly a chance to sprawl onto her back. She was pleased. Cameron took a striking game to a grapple game in record time.

Kelly spun around on Cameron's back, trying to get in position to put her in a choke hold. But Cameron was moving, too. She rolled onto her back and began punching. Kelly was amazed that she could punch with such force from a position that offered no space for wind ups. She caught the blows in her hands, deflecting them. She felt Cameron raise her legs, trying to hook a heel around her neck. Kelly allowed her, but rolled back instead of allowing herself to be wrapped up in Cameron's leg lock.

She was barely on her feet when Cameron was charging again. Kelly decided to see how fast Cameron could move. She sprung to the side and launched a punch, just to gently tap her on the jaw. Cameron grabbed the punch and tried to throw Kelly. Kelly allowed herself to be pulled closer to Cameron where she lashed out with her knee, catching the trainee in the side.

Cameron fell backwards with the hit, her hand shooting out to counter with a bridge hand. Kelly blocked the chop and threw her. Cameron went with the throw, but was able to twist Kelly's arm in the process; Kelly had to fall herself to prevent her elbow from being dislocated. Now on the ground with Cameron, Kelly sprung up to mount the trainee, but Cameron was also surprisingly fast on her feet. The two met, trading blows.

"Time," Fred shouted. Both Kelly and Cameron pulled their last punches. "Well done, Trainee."

"You did good," Kelly said, grinning despite herself. She hadn't had a fight like that in years.

"Thank you," Cameron said mechanically, getting to her feet.

"That's it for today, Trainees," Fred said to Victor Platoon. "You are to return to your quarters. Continue eating the meals given to you; I know they taste like shit, but it's good for you. Keep up your exercises, and don't push yourselves."

"Was she that good?" Linda asked Kelly as the Vs left the room.

"She wasn't very fast, but she knew how to think on her feet," Kelly said. "I'm glad she survived; she's still the best candidate we have for Squad Leader."

* * *

Lucy looked out on the trainees. They all stood at rigid attention, wearing thin moisture-wicking clothes. The armory was dead quiet. It was finally time for Mjolnir.

Standing in cases lining the massive room was a suit of armor for each of the trainees. Mounted on mannequins, the armor was blocky, like the IV armor, but made from a higher quality. Unlike the Spartan-IV armor, each was marginally tailored to each soldier, making it a step up from mass-produced models, but not as high-quality as the Spartan-IIs got.

Lucy was jealous; as a Spartan-III, she only had her SPI armor when she graduated. Granted, as a trainer, she now had access to her own armor, but that did little to curb the jealousy.

"Trainees ready?" Lucy called.

"Yes, ma'am."

Lucy nodded to Tom and Ash.

"Move to your selected armor," she said in her best voice. "Specialists will assist you."

The trainees broke off, drifting from armor to armor, finding their name and numbers. Lucy risked a glance at Cameron. The trainee's face was a mix of emotions. She was proud to look into the armor, but she was still obviously mourning the losses of her friends and platoon-mates. Lucy didn't blame her. She still had nightmares of her final assault, and of her muteness.

The technicians filed into the room, each a team of four, each carrying a cart full of specially designed tools. They opened the cases and started dressing each trainee with their new armor.

"Congratulations, trainees," Tom spoke over the din. "You have graduated from boot. You will train in your armor until it becomes a second skin, train until your fingers bleed, and then, maybe, you'll become real Spartans."

Lucy walked from soldier to soldier, nodding at them and occasionally speaking. Each of the new soldiers seemed ecstatic. This was the moment they were training for, of course.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The reports were troubling. But then again, they were always troubling. Serin was always predicting rising trouble among the Covenant, and each year her predictions seemed more fiction than fact. Linda sighed. She knew Serin was just doing her job as the Director of ONI. She just got tired of the glitter-and-doom prophecies.

"Think this year it will happen?" She asked Kelly.

"Hard to say," she replied. "Elites are strange. They play by their honor and not much else."

"So what would be the honorable thing to do when starting a revolution?"

"And therein lies the rub," Kelly sighed. "I feel sorry for Serin. Each year, she has to say the same old things. When the shit finally does happen, would the UNSC finally act?"

"As I have said before, speculative thinking would achieve nothing," Demeter said, appearing in the officer's lounge. "'The Boy Who Cried Wolf' is a strong analogy to the situation that Vice Admiral Serin is facing, but it would be best to leave that to the trained intelligence officer."

"Because us dumb grunts sure don't know anything," Kelly chuckled.

The door to the officer's lounge slid open and Fred and Mendez walked in.

"Kelly, Linda, I need your opinion on this," Fred said, handing the two data pads.

"What's this?" Linda asked, thumbing the screen to life.

"It's reports of Spartan 1.1s," Fred said.

"One-point-one?" Mendez said, grabbing Fred's own data pad. "ONI made another generation of Spartans?"

"If I may request a copy of the file?" Demeter asked.

"Sure thing," Fred replied. He pulled out a data chip from the pad before he gave it to Mendez, and slid the chip into the hologram projector base. Demeter's holographic form shimmered as she assimilated the data. "ONI didn't build them. They were naturally occurring. According to these reports, they are the offspring of surviving Orion members."

"What do you mean, 'naturally occurring?'" Mendez asked. "And why would ONI be keeping an eye on them?"

"The augmentation process you underwent in Orion altered your genetic code," Demeter said. "According to the report Fredric handed you, those genetic changes had a trickle-down effect for the offspring."

"Boosted intelligence, strength, agility and reflexes," Linda read. "Improved immune system and healing rates. This is starting to sound familiar."

"Who gave you these reports?" Kelly asked.

"Serin did," Fred replied. "I asked her to look into ways we could get more trainees who fall within Dr. Halsey's genetic parameters. This was something she found. Actually, this was the only thing she found. There's not much material on the subject."

"If you don't mind me asking," Linda said, "why would Serin help you? I thought she didn't care for Dr. Halsey."

"She was very cooperative when I told her that we were trying to save trainee's lives. She heard about the augmentation process."

"I am amazed that she is still on friendly terms with you," Demeter said. "I would have assumed that she would bear at least a small amount of resentment towards you, misplaced after her washing out, of course."

"I don't know, it seems understandable," Mendez said, handing the data pad back. "But these 1.1s are too old to be recruited. Hell, they have kids who are older than our recruitment age, and I don't think that trickle-down effect would give them much of a boost."

"No, it won't," Fred said. "At least, not that ONI would care to document. But there was one thing that caught my eye."

"What's that?" Linda said, biting the bait.

"All of the Spartan 1.1s fall within the top ten-percent of Halsey's parameters."

Linda, Kelly and Fred traded looks. Demeter shimmered as she tried to extrapolate Fred's hidden meaning. Linda skimmed the report's abstract again, seeing if she could find some piece of data she missed. Finding none, she looked back up at Fred.

"What are you planning?" Mendez asked, voice starting to lower to a growl. Linda could see his hairs starting to stand on end. He knew what they were thinking.

"It's a win-win situation, sir," Fred said. "ONI doesn't have to kidnap children, or even twist their arms or their parent's arms to get them to volunteer."

"You cannot be serious," Mendez said.

"The augmentation process was a great success, if only for the trainees who were within Dr. Halsey's parameters. They only had a seven percent wash-out rate, and even then, they didn't die from the process."

"No, you are not."

"No more soldiers have to die from the augmentation process. No more children would be kidnapped."

"You mean to use your altered genetics to create the ideal Spartan candidate," Demeter said.

"So is that your solution to the augmentation process? To genetically create your own child soldiers?!"

Fred looked puzzled as he faced Mendez.

"I figured that ONI would be more willing for this as opposed to kidnapping children and conscripting them."

"Oh, and growing your own children in test tubes is any better?"

"If you want to split hairs, neither option is giving them a choice," Linda pointed out.

"'Split hairs?'" Mendez sputtered.

"That phrase might not be suitable for the situation, Linda," Demeter said.

"It makes sense," Kelly said. "We create our own soldiers, already born into Halsey's parameters. None will die when they undergo the augmentation process, and ONI gets their Spartans."

"So the end justifies the means?" Mendez demanded. "This is fucking inhuman!"

"Chief, if I may, way are you so opposed to this?" Linda asked. Mendez stared at her. "We have a job to do. Our orders dictate that we are responsible for the creation and training of new Spartan groups. I believe we've just found a better way to create these groups."

"You seriously don't see anything that's wrong with this?" Mendez said. "You're playing god. Creating children just for the purpose of becoming soldiers?"

"This is a subject of great moral ambiguity," Demeter said, holding her chin in thought. "One that would be looked down upon, for sure." She quickly shut her mouth, a sign that she wanted to talk, but didn't let herself.

"Is that any worse than our training?" Linda asked.

"Linda has a valid point," the AI admitted before shutting her mouth again.

Mendez went bright red with anger. If looks could kill, Linda was sure his could cut through the hull of the Infinity. For almost a minute, he glared at them.

"And how would you go about creating these children?" He said through clenched teeth.

"We would take sperm and egg donations," Fred said. "It will have to be in vitro fertilization, as our augmentation has greatly suppressed our sex drives."

"You've figured this all out, haven't you?" Mendez hissed.

"Fredric's plan is logical," Demeter said, breaking down. She spoke fast, almost slurring her words. "With the advances in in vitro fertilization, successful implantation is almost certainly guaranteed. And even assuming the absolute worst, ninety-nine percent of the trainees would survive, barring unforeseen accidental deaths, of course."

"Demeter, shut up!" Mendez roared. "Look at yourself, Fred. I've trained you better than this. Creating your own soldiers? Using your own children? What have you been thinking?"

"Sir, respectfully, you taught us to do things the most efficient way," Fred said, returning Mendez's glare. "And yes, I'll use my own children. I've _been_ using my own children, and I lost half of my children not just four months ago. If I can find a way to save the next group of my children, you bet your ass I will do it. And given your actions in the past, I don't think you qualify as the kind of person to tell me what's moral or not."

The two glared at each other, vying for dominance. But Linda could see Mendez deflating. He had no right to tell them what was wrong or right; he was the one who trained the original child soldiers.

"No one is going to like this," Mendez finally muttered. "Not ONI, not the UNSC, _nobody_."

"We've been operating out of the public's eye since we were shipped in to boot," Kelly said. "I don't think this will be much different."

Mendez snorted as he stormed out of the room.

* * *

Fred worked the speed bag as fast as he could, but he knew he could have gone faster. He kept his breathing under control as he pushed himself faster and faster.

"Fredric, I am detecting a slight drop off in your performance," Demeter said. For the umpteenth time, Fred regretted having the AI monitor his private workout sessions.

"I know," he grunted, giving the bag one last heavy punch. He was getting old, dammit, and he didn't like it.

_I'll have to ask Mendez for some pointers,_ he thought as he grabbed is water bottle.

"What's the damage?"

"Your speed has dropped by twelve percent," Demeter replied. "Your strength has dropped by fifteen."

"Just great." Fred never would have imagined he would have to worry about getting old. Never in his life.

"I wouldn't worry, Fredric. Your current performance is that of a man half your age."

"That doesn't really make me feel better, Demeter," Fred said.

Demeter's holographic body shimmered into existence.

"Why not?" She asked with rapt attention.

Fred frowned slightly. How would he explain this to an AI, to a computer?

"I'm a Spartan," he finally said. "I'm supposed to be stronger and faster than normal humans. I'm supposed to be at my best at all times."

"So you believe that your slight performance drop is linked with doing your duty to the UNSC," Demeter asked.

"Well, yes," he said. "If I can't fight, I can't be a soldier. And I didn't train to be much else."

"Chief Mendez has been growing old for quite some time now, and he seems to be happy with his level of physical fitness."

"Mendez is different."

"I'm afraid I don't understand."

"Technically he's an Orion, not a Spartan. He's a first generation super soldier, but he's not like us. He wasn't raised in the military, like us."

"Ah, now you're bringing service and upbringing into the equation." Demeter gave a rare coy smile. "If he was not raised to your expected level of military experience, then why do you get along so well with him?"

"Because he trained us," Fred replied. "He's the closest thing to a father we have."

"Interesting. I thought I had you figured out, Fredric."

Fred was about to ask her not to use his full name, again, when her head suddenly cocked to the side.

"I'm receiving an incoming transmission from Ms. Serin," Demeter said. "She's requesting to talk to you. It's urgent."

"How urgent?" Fred asked, wanting to wash his sweat off.

"Very."

Fred sighed. "Very well. Link me in."

Demeter vanished into the air, replaced with a holographic screen. Serin was sitting at her desk at ONI headquarters, tapping nervously on the desk. Her hair had seemed to start to gray. Fred self-consciously rubbed his.

"Fred, what in the hell are you doing?" She snapped.

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but I'm going to need some context."

"Don't you 'ma'am' me," Serin hissed. "I'm calling you as a friend, and as a former Spartan. This isn't the rank checking up on you, making sure you didn't scrape your knees on the sidewalk."

"I understand," Fred said. "But I'm still confused as to what you're talking about."

"I'm talking about your proposal for ONI on the next generation of Spartans," Serin said. "What the hell were you thinking, creating genetically engineered children to turn into soldiers?"

"We're not genetically engineering them, we're using the trickle-down effect the augmentation had on us," Fred said.

"That's splitting fucking hairs and you know it. You want to grow your own damn army of Spartans in test tubes."

"'My own damn army?' I'm not doing this for my own personal gain, this is for the UNSC and humanity."

"I know that, but no one else does," Serin said. "They're thinking you've finally lost it. ONI thinks you want to set yourself up as some kind of demigod and start your own insurrection right here in Sol system."

Fred stared at the screen in shock. Him? A traitor, and worse, the leader of a rebellion?

"…What?"

"Yea, that's the kind of shit you're in."

"Serin, that's not me. That's not any of us. I came up with the idea so that we could stop using kidnapped children."

"By making your own genetically perfect ones?"

"Genetic engineering was never part of the plan, only the trickle-down effect."

"Doesn't matter, everyone else sees it that way, and they're all _shitting _because of it."

Fred opened and closed his mouth, stunned at what he was hearing.

"You know what they're going to do?" Serin continued.

"What?"

"They're going to send in the IVs to get you," Serin said. "They're going to kill anyone who resists, and drag you back to Earth. There, you'll be put on a one-sided trial, take all the blame for kidnapping children for the Spartan-III and V programs, and be put to death. Or, if you're goddamn lucky, they'll shut you in a hole under Antarctica for the rest of your life."

"Pin the Spartan-III program on me? I didn't even know about the III program until after Reach fell. Hell, even a year after that."

"It doesn't matter, ONI doesn't want to be caught dead being linked to that," Serin said, leaning back in her chair. "They'll do whatever they have to in order to pin it on you. And you know ONI place hardball."

"You'd order that?"

"This is so far beyond me, it's not even funny. Admiral Hood himself is putting the order out."

It was more than Fred could take. Him? Turn traitor?

"Why did you call me, Serin?"

"I'm calling you to tell you that you've got one week," she said. "One week until the Spartan IVs knocks on the doors of the Infinity. And I don't care what you think of them or their status as super soldiers, they're over five hundred of them now, and they will win."

"What do you suggest we do?"

"Turn yourselves in, now," Serin said. "Maybe you'll be able to make some kind of deal with ONI. Publicly take the blame for the III and V program, and maybe they'll turn you into some kind of Covenant kill team leader, send you off on some suicide missions. You and everyone else associated with the program, that's Kelly, Linda, Mendez, and the IIIs, Lucy, Tom and Ash."

"What about you? Won't they want to throw you in with us?"

"Got that right. The power-hungry sociopaths are already trying to tear me out of my throne, calling me guilty by association."

"By association? We haven't spoken in years, not even through messages."

"There's an old saying: 'don't let the facts get in the way of the truth.'"

"Nothing in that is truthful."

"Doesn't matter. As long as enough people believe it, it'll become the truth."

Fred paced in the workout room, his mind spinning.

"Turn yourself in. The sooner, the better."

"And what about you?"

"Don't worry about me," Serin said. "I'm the heir to the ONI throne. Parangosky, rest her soul, left me plenty of dirty secrets to help keep my position, even in this shit storm. I've even added a few to the pile myself. They won't leverage me out of this desk, never in a million years."

"And you're making sure this conversation can't be traced back to you?"

"Please."

"That's good. And Serin?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

He could have sworn to see Serin sadly smile as she turned off the video chat. In the absence of the holographic display, Demeter returned.

"What do you want me to do?" She asked.

Fred paced again, then again.

"Call everyone," he finally said. "Kelly, Linda, Mendez, everyone but the trainees. We have to talk this over."

* * *

Humans were so brilliantly complex. Demeter may have been working with them, for them, for her entire operational life, but she was sure that she would never truly understand them. Her plan on a massive dissertation seemed so impossible, it made her giddy to try and write it. She watched them from the cameras in the officer's lounge as they listened to Fredric explain the situation with them.

Everyone had a different reaction. Ash and Lucy were the hardest to read. Demeter suspected that it was because of Ash's anti-aggression medication and Lucy's past history with mental trauma. Thomas, however, was livid. He had an accelerated heart rate, his pupils were pinpoints, and muscles were tense; classical identification of rage.

One thing she did expect was that the rest of the Spartans, Mendez included, were the most well-kept. Linda was especially good at keeping her cool, while Kelly simply seemed resigned to her fate. Demeter was trying to figure out if Mendez wanted to say 'told you so' to the Spartans, or if he was making his peace with his fate.

"This is bullshit," Thomas hissed.

"That's the truth," Fredric said. "Serin gave us one week's warning."

"I knew ONI wouldn't like this, but I never would have imagined they would react like this," Mendez said.

"Calling a scorched earth policy on their own people? None of us could have seen that," Linda said.

"Do we do?" Lucy asked.

"The only thing we can do," Fredric said. "We turn ourselves in, make some kind of plea bargain with ONI."

"And get conscripted into a suicide mission or three?" Kelly said.

"At least we'll still get to serve."

"This is bullshit!" Thomas said. "Let them walk all over us and close down our program, just because they want a fall guy?"

"What are you saying," Ash said. "That we don't turn ourselves in, resist arrest?"

"No!" Thomas glared at Ash. "We run."

Suddenly it got very quiet in the officer's lounge. Demeter made sure that she was recording everything. She didn't want to miss this for the world.

"You watch your mouth, soldier," Fredric ordered. "We do not abandon our post."

"Even when that post doesn't need us anymore?"

The two glared at each other. Demeter was sure that this was how alpha males fought without physical violence. The two were obviously vying for dominance and control of the pack.

"Do you remember why you became a Spartan, Tom?" Fredric asked. "It was to protect the UNSC and her colonies from themselves and the Covenant. We pledged not to become her enemy, which is what you're suggesting right now."

"The hell I am," Thomas shot back, taking a step closer to Fredric. Lucy was instantly stepping between them, assuming her roles of the omega, trying to placate both feuding men. "I'm saying we leave."

"Leave? Leave ONI for what, the UNSC armed forces? They would never take us in once ONI paints us as demons."

"I never said that, I said we should just leave."

"What are you saying?"

"Just leave, and protect the UNSC our own way."

Fredric was shocked. Eyes wide open, pupils fully dilated, mouth almost slack open, full-on shock. Most of the Spartan-IIs were. Mendez and Lucy, however, seemed to have arrived at Thomas' conclusion. Only Ash seemed most unaffected, but again, probably because of his medication. Most curious. Was the dosage too strong?

"You want us to become pirates?" Fredric finally said. "Have you gone mad? We're soldiers, not raiders."

Demeter couldn't hold herself back anymore.

"I believe Thomas wants the Spartans to become more like a private security group," she said, breaking the conversation. "One outside of UNSC jurisdiction."

Hopefully she wouldn't interfere too much with the group dynamic; she simply couldn't retrain herself.

"That's exactly it," Thomas said. "Us, defending the UNSC how we see fit, not how a group of old admirals plot it."

"That's ridiculous," he said. "No one would want our help, not after ONI paints us as kidnappers and warlords."

"That's why we'll give them our help whether they like it or not."

"I won't allow it," Fredric said. "Never."

Thomas looked at Ash and Lucy for support. They didn't stand up to Fredric.

"And why not?" Demeter was surprised to see Mendez speak up. "You'll get to serve, and train your Spartans. The best of both worlds."

"We'll be going against the will of the UNSC," Fredric sputtered.

"Yes, but we've been doing that since I trained you," Mendez calmly replied. "It isn't their policy to train child soldiers, but we did it. It wasn't their policy to push teenagers through puberty with unstable chemicals, not to mention the deadly augmentation process, but we did it."

Demeter was almost laughing with joy. Fredric would never give up his beliefs, and yet here he was, almost contemplating it. Humans were just a thrill to watch.

Fredric turned to Kelly. She apologetically nodded.

"We'll have to vote on this," Fredric snapped. "I may be the ranking officer, but I will not make my troops suffer under my decision. I'll talk to the Vs, and get their input."

"A good thing for a leader, but I believe we already know the answer," Mendez said. "They want to serve just as much as you do."

"We'll see," Fredric said. "Our action will depend on their votes."

Demeter was already calculating the probability of each Spartan's individual answer when Fredric summoned the Spartan-Vs. If she had a body, she would be shaking with joy. Oh, how she loved humans and their petty politics.

* * *

"UNSC Ort, this is Cargo Ship Tangent, we have a package to drop off," Stevens said.

"Roger that, Tangent, we have you on sensors. Initiate docking procedures."

"Ten-four, systems are linking. See you in a few minutes."

"Not too bad, Pyro," Mike chuckled from behind him. Stevens hated Mike, especially for his nickname. Every time he called him 'Pyro,' his side ached.

"Hey, Mike, why don't you take a step outside and see what the temperature's like," Stevens growled, unclipping himself form the helmsman's chair. "Be sure to breath _real_ deep."

"It's all in good fun, man," Mike grinned his shit-eating grin.

"Fuck your fun." Stevens floated to the rotating cargo hold, followed by Mike. Why did he have to get stuck with this asshole? He wasn't getting paid enough to put up with him.

"You know, most ex-marines I talk to are only too happy to show off their old war wounds," Mike said as they got accustomed to the gravity.

"I've told you a thousand goddamn times, plasma fucking hurts."

The ship shuddered as they connected with the small UNSC ship. Stevens looked over the Joton crop combines. None had been disturbed from the coupling.

"Come on, just tell me the story."

"If you wanted your own damn stories, you should've joined up instead of sucking on your momma's saggy tits."

"Don't bring my momma into this," Mike pouted.

Stevens keyed the airlock, and the doors started to slide down.

"What do you think the UNSC wants with these, anyways?" Mike asked.

"Do you get paid to ask?" Stevens replied.

"You aren't the least bit curious?"

"Rule one of the military: you got stripes, you don't ask."

"What do you mean?"

"What he means is that if you're an enlisted man, you don't get told anything," a woman said as the door slid all the way down. She was a big girl, maybe even bigger than Stevens. And she was pretty, with picture perfect hair and skin. Two men and another woman stood behind her, all standing 'at ease.' Pretty as she was, Stevens knew that she could break him in half without even blinking.

"Are you the buyers?" Mike stupidly asked.

"We're here to take the cargo, yes," the woman said.

"Damn, what's the military feeding you?" Mike said.

Stevens knew that woman. Not her face, not even her name if she ever told him, but he knew the stance, how she held herself, and he knew her size.

"Is the cargo ready to be transferred?" The woman asked.

Mike looked over his copy of the sales sheet.

"You're the Navy person?"

"That's right."

"No way Navy guys are that big," he insisted.

"That's because she's a Spartan," Stevens said. The woman and her friends all turned their gaze on him. Suddenly, Stevens knew he said something he wasn't supposed to.

"Whoa, you mean a _Spartan_, Spartan?" Mike gasped.

"Is there any other?" Stevens replied, meeting the woman's stare.

"How did you know?" She asked.

"I fought with the Master Chief in New Mombasa."

Mike's eyes threatened to pop out of his skull. Even the Spartans seemed impressed.

"You fought with the Chief?" The woman asked.

"Fought with him? I took a plasma round for the son of a bitch." Stevens lifted up his shirt, showing his burnt side.

"And you're still in one piece? You really lucked out."

"Not really. Fused a few nerves, I need to take painkillers for them sometimes."

The woman walked over to him. Now that she was closer, Stevens could see that she was young. Really young. So young that he was surprised that the UNSC let her sign up, let alone as a Spartan.

"It's an honor to meet a veteran, especially one who fought with the Chief," she said, offering a hand.

"It's nice to meet another Spartan," Stevens said, shaking it. It felt like squeezing a brick. "Now where do you need these?"

"Just load them on. We'll take care of the rest," she said.

"Sure thing," Mike said. He keyed his data pad, and three fork lift bots drove up and began unloading the Jotons. "If you don't mind, what are you using these for?"

"That's need-to-know information," the Spartan replied.

"Fucking typical Navy," Stevens spat.

"Don't worry, we don't need to know either," she said, half grinning.

"Like I said, fucking typical Navy."

"Got that right," she laughed.

* * *

Captain Del Rio examined the holographic table. Xen, the ship's leading smart AI, had plotted out their change in course to perfection.

"This is good work, Xen," Del Rio said. "What's our ETA until Earth?"

"Once we begin engine burns, five days," Xen said, her avatar appearing on the table. Her particular avatar was a simple 2D box with circuitry wires spinning off of her and disappearing into the air.

"And when are we meeting with our special guests?"

"They are seven hours out."

"Good." Del Rio hated getting involved in ONI feuds, but his orders were orders. Somehow the Spartans on board pissed off the powers-that-be, and they were going to reap the whirlwind. "Notify me when they're about to board."

"Understood, sir. For the record, ONI Intel suggests that the Spartan-Vs and their trainers might have hostile reactions. They are suggesting that you and your crew prepare for the worst."

"Got it." Del Rio turned to the crew on the bridge. "Everyone heard that? Pass the word along to get our marines ready, but keep it off the comms. I don't want our passengers getting wind of this."

"Understood, sir." His crew nodded, and a few of the junior officers left to inform their standing defense marines. Del Rio turned to the captain's chair and sat down, picking up his data pad to look over the projections of the actions. He was two paragraphs in when he felt the slightest tremble. He looked up. The crew had felt it as well, and were looking around to see what had gone wrong.

"Xen?" The AI appeared, her avatar turning from blue to a light green. "What happened?"

"Strange feedback from the engines, sir," she said. "I'm correcting it now."

"By 'strange feedback,' what do you mean?"

"Avoiding technical jargon as best I can, the engines shuddered."

"I could feel that. What went wrong?"

"There was an anomaly from the control center. I'm currently investigating it."

"Open a channel to our patrol ships. Ask them if they detected any energy spikes."

"Sending messages," the AI said. She slowly began turning to a solid green. "Four of our escort ship AIs have reported sensing a gravitational energy spike. Our conclusions indicate it is an error with the Forerunner tech."

"Can you fix it?"

"Implementing the software patch now." Xen began turning back to blue, then another shudder ran through the ship, and she turned to a yellow-green. "The patch didn't take."

"What do you mean, the patch didn't take?" Del Rio demanded. The crew traded looks of unease.

"The Infinity was built from the ground up with every available piece of Forerunner tech the UNSC has recovered. Much of the tech was barely understood upon its instillation; scientists have only recently made the Infinity self-sufficient. The patch was my first guess at how to fix such technology."

"So you're saying the work isn't quite working," Del Rio said sarcastically.

"That would be the understanding."

"Well, what's the affect it's having?"

"The engines are increasing in power. If they continue to increase in power output, they will red line in two hours."

Del Rio sighed.

"Not the best news, but at least we have two hours. I take it you've ordered the scientists to the engine room?"

"That's right," Xen said. "They will arrive in fifteen minutes."

"Ship just had to be three damn kilometers long," he muttered.

Another shudder ran through the ship. Xen began turning a yellow-orange.

"Status."

"Engine output just jumped. Red in forty-five minutes."

"Jesus Christ, what happened?"

"The engine controls, which are Forerunner based, are going out of control."

"What's the cause, dammit?"

"Unknown."

Del Rio quietly hissed. The UNSC just had to build this damn thing as fast as possible, cut as many corners as they could.

"Power down the engines."

"I've tried that, sir. It was not effective."

"What if we vent the engine rooms? Would that buy us time?"

"Yes sir, but it would take seven minutes to evacuate the appropriate area."

"Do it. It's best to overreact now than risk a meltdown."

"Sounding alarms."

"Engines, what's the status?"

"Xen is right, sir," the bridge officer replied. "The engines' output is growing exponentially."

"Sir, we've lost control over the engines," Xen announced, turning to a light red.

"What? How did that happen?" Del Rio demanded.

"The control system shut us out."

"More Forerunner tech going berserk?"

"It would appear so. Engines will redline in twenty minutes."

"Sir, if the engines redline, we risk a catastrophic explosion," the bridge officer said.

"What will the damage be?" Del Rio asked, even though he already knew.

"Aside from the complete destruction of the Infinity, conservative estimates say that everything within half a million miles will be vaporized."

"Jesus fucking wept."

"The Infinity is carrying radically advanced technology, sir. The engines are particularly potent."

Del Rio's mind was racing. It was his duty to protect this ship at all cost; it was the most expensive piece of equipment to ever be created, truly one of a kind. But it was his duty as a Captain of the UNSC Navy to protect everyone under his command.

"Sound the alarm, we're abandoning ship," he said.

"Sir?" Xen asked.

"Ask the scientists to stay. We'll work on getting this thing under control while everyone else evacuates to a safe distance. That includes our escort ships."

"Understood, sir," the AI said. "Sounding alarm and contacting the scientists."

"Everyone, get to the escape pods," Del Rio said, standing up. "I don't want any good men dying here today."

The crew looked at him. Some left.

"Sir, with all due respect," the engineer specialist said, "flying this ship is not possible for one man. I'm volunteering to stay."

Del Rio nodded.

"If anyone else wishes to join their companions in the escape pods, you will not be thought less of. In fact, I encourage it. Please, go."

A few more officers left, leaving only a skeleton crew.

"Sir, I'm receiving word from Lieutenant Fredric," Xen said. "He wishes to talk to you."

"Patch him through."

"Captain Del Rio, I understand that there is a situation aboard the Infinity," Fred said.

"That's right, Lieutenant. Xen is predicting a catastrophic failure within twenty minutes."

"My Spartans stand ready to help."

"With all due respect, Lieutenant, there's not much for you to do."

"We just wish to serve, Captain. I'll send a team up to help man the bridge so your officers get a chance to escape."

"Are they rated to pilot a UNSC vessel?"

"Yes sir, that's one of the support roles they trained for."

"We'll take all the help we can get."

"Understood. They should arrive there in less than ten minutes."

"We'll be cutting it close."

"Cutting it close is in our job description. Lieutenant Fredric out."

"The Spartans have left their quarters," Xen announced.

"Then let's make sure they came all this way for nothing. How is the evacuation of the engines going?"

"The lifeboat is launching now. Venting atmosphere. We now have several additional minutes."

"Good work. And the rest of the ship?"

"Evacuations are sixty percent complete."

"Good. Open a channel to the Central America."

The holographic table lit up as the comm channel opened.

"Captain Haal, this is Del Rio of the Infinity," he said. "I take it you've gotten word on our current situation?"

"Yes I have, Captain," Haal replied.

"Good. Can I ask a favor of you?"

"Anything."

"Please pick up the lifeboats. Some of them might not clear out of the blast radius."

"Consider it done, Captain."

"Thank you."

"Good luck."

"We can all use a bit of luck," Del Rio said, closing the channel. "Xen? What the status."

"Red line in eighteen minutes. The scientists have arrived at engineering."

"Good. Tell them they'd better work—"

"Hold," the AI said, cutting him off. "They are moving from engineering. They appear to be entering an escape pod."

"Open a channel to them."

"I have tried. I am being blocked."

"What?"

"The cameras in the area are also being blocked. I am tracking them via their data pad's movements."

"What the hell is going on down there? Are things that bad?"

"Unknown. I have dedicated a minimal amount of processing power to it; the engines are my focus."

"I want eyes down there, Xen. Use as much processing power you can without shooting us in the foot."

"Understood."

The door to the bridge slid open. Del Rio turned to see a full squad of armored Spartans walk in.

"Thank God you got here," he breathed. "Do you have a team in engineering? There's a situation there."

"We're taking care of it, sir," the lead Spartan replied.

"Good. Take up positions at engineering and helms. I want to steer us away from the escort fleet before we blow up."

"Sir, we're going to have to ask you to leave."

Del Rio looked over. He noticed that the Spartans were carrying arms. A pistol was at each of their sides, while some carried rifles and others shotguns.

"What is the meaning of this? Why did you bring arms onto the bridge?"

"You need to leave."

"So you can go down with the ship?"

The lead Spartan walked up to Del Rio. On an unheard command, the others walked over to the remaining officers.

"You need to leave."

"Stand down, Spartan, that's an order."

"No, sir, we won't."

The bridge grew dead quiet as the Spartan loomed over Del Rio. He could feel the eyes of his crew on him.

"This wasn't an accident, was it?" He asked.

"No sir, it wasn't."

"How did you get the engines to redline?"

"We have our own Smart AI, sir. And many dumb ones."

Del Rio glared at the Spartan.

"You're going rogue, aren't you?"

The Spartan didn't reply, but Del Rio could see him bristle.

"You need to leave. Now."

"Fine," Del Rio said, getting out of the captain's chair. He turned to his crew, who were staring at him. "We can't fight Spartans, not like this."

"We'll escort you to the escape pods," the Spartan said. "And take the AI."

Del Rio walked to the holographic table and pulled Xen's memory card out. A small team of Spartans lead him and his crew off the ship.

The remaining Spartans assumed positions at the bridge.

"Sir? We have the bridge. Giving Demeter control of the Infinity," the Spartan said, typing commands on the captain's chair. "We're ready to move out."

With the last of the escape pods jettisoned, the Infinity moved away from small fleet of ships surrounding it. It moved out past the orbit of Pluto, and began charging it's Slipspace capacitors. Before any of the ships knew what was happening, it jumped out of system.

* * *

"This is Lieutenant Fredric, Spartan one-zero-four, UNSC Naval Special Warfare. As of 13:47 Central Earth Standard Time, me and the soldiers under my command, including the members of the Spartan-V program, have captured the UNSC Infinity.

"We knowingly commit this act of war and high treason not to protect ourselves, but to protect the UNSC. We had planned on great changes to the Spartan-VI program, but our actions in creating the personnel necessary for the program was met with widespread shock and disapproval from the Office of Naval Intelligence, prompting them to shut down the Spartan-V Commando program and purge its members.

"We have seized control of the Infinity, and will take it out of UNSC controlled space, not to turn traitor, not to ally ourselves with possible Insurgence groups or even the Covenant, but to protect the UNSC from her enemies. During the Human-Covenant War, the Spartan-II program was integral to the survival of the UNSC, and we want to continue to protect her, even if she does not willingly want us. We will patrol the borders of the UNSC, providing help and support to her colonies in time of need.

"We will be called many things, but let it be known that we are patriots, and are willing to fight, kill and die for the United Nations Space Command."

* * *

"Vice Admiral Osman, I don't believe you know the gravity of the situation," Admiral Anderson said.

Serin knew he liked having affairs with barely legal girls, even though he was a grandfather. One particular affair resulted in a pregnancy, and the bastard was carried out instead of aborted. Serin had been keeping tabs on him, and he showed great promise to be an ONI agent, possibly her protégé.

"No one understands the situation quite like I do," Serin said, facing the Admiral Board. "The Spartans have gone rogue, seized the Infinity, and I'm one of the last remaining Spartan-IIs in the UNSC. You want me to answer to the crime."

"We know you've had contact with Lieutenant Fredrick," Sarah Rabi said. She knew her son had a thing for necrophilia; the fresher the corpses, the better. Ms. Rabi had gone out of her way to keep her son's disturbing habit a secret, but didn't go far enough. She looked at Serin, but quickly looked away. "You've obviously told him to run from the UNSC."

"Do you have recordings of that conversation? Transcripts?" Serin asked. The room grew quiet for the briefest of seconds.

"Do you, or do you not, admit to having contacted Fredric one week before the theft of the Infinity?" Rabi pressed.

"I did contacted him. And do you know what I said? I told him to turn himself in. Do you wish to hear the recording I personally took of our conversation?"

"No, Osman, that's quite alright," Zeshan Biswas said. He was running a pyramid scheme, one that had yet to break. "Given your past history with ONI, we are willing to take your word for it."

"You just mean to say that I'm doing a good job destabilizing the Covenant," Serin said flatly.

"That's not the purpose of this court hearing," Admiral Zanesh said. He owned a series of high class brothels and drug trafficking rings on almost all UNSC colonies. "The purpose of this hearing was to put you on trial for allowing Lieutenant Fredric and his Spartan project to go rogue."

Serin suppressed a grin. For an intelligence agent, she was remarkably uninformed on the capture of the Infinity, which she took with good humor. She only learned of Fred's actions seven hours before the trial was scheduled to be started. She had to admit, though, that ONI did a great job keeping the event hidden from the public. The Infinity had only been stolen ten hours prior, and they already put together a trial.

The fact that she didn't hear about the theft also spoke leagues about Fred. He was able to plan an incredibly risky op, and kept it hidden from everyone. She felt an old surge of pride for him.

"I opened my files to you to examine for yourself; I had no prior knowledge of Lieutenant Fredric's actions."

"I find it hard to believe that the director of ONI is uninformed," Admiral Moore said. In his youth, he had killed a girl. A pure crime of passion, but he had gone through incredible lengths to ensure that she was never found. Good thing, too, because as the chair of the Human Augmentation Morals Committee, he was expected to have a flawless record from the moment he was born.

"'Small leaks sink great ships,' Admiral," Serin said. "Fred minimized his leaks, and as a result, his plan was not sunk."

"You're saying that he kept this a secret from everyone, for one week, on the most monitored ship in the UNSC fleet?" Moore asked.

"I never said it would have been easy."

Admiral Moore snorted.

"Ms. Osman, you have had several hours to look over every fact we could gather on the theft," Admiral Smithe said. She had slept with numerous younger boys, one of which was her cousin's son. "Can you tell us where they might be going, or how long they can operate without support?"

"I believe you already know the answer to the first question," Serin said, fiddling with her data pad. "We have a vector of the Infinity's Slipspace jump, but we cannot hope to know how long they will travel for. They could change directions every parsec, or they could still be traveling in a straight line. We have no way to accurately predict where they are headed. They are lost to us, and I doubt we will be able to find them.

"As for their operations, it would be a good estimate to say that they can operate without UNSC support indefinitely. As you are all aware, the Infinity was originally designed to be humanity's home should the Covenant find Earth and glass it. Because of that, it was stocked to the gills with supplies, from food to medical supplies to construction equipment. The repurposing of the Infinity to serve as the Spartan's headquarters and training ground did not lead the UNSC to removing its survival capabilities.

"Also, it came to my attention that the Spartans have acquired numerous agricultural machines, such as Joton crop combines, farm animals, as well as a plethora of extremely specialized manufacturing equipment. This would lead me to believe that they plan to set up a base of operations where they can not only train the next generation of Spartans, but to also manufacture their needed equipment, such as Mjolnir armor. It's also worth noting that eight Prowler class vessels were docked with the Infinity, giving the Spartans stealth capabilities, as well."

The Admirals muttered their disproval. A few whispered to each other.

"And you claim you did not have any knowledge of this plot?" Chris Robinson asked. He operated dog fighting rings on multiple colonies.

"That is correct. Neither did Naomi, the other remaining Spartan-II in the UNSC."

"Where is she?"

"She's currently operating with Kilo-Seven."

"And this Kilo-Seven is…?"

"Highly classified, I'm afraid," Serin said. "Talking about it would compromise the agents in the field. All I can tell you is that she is light years away from the nearest UNSC instillation and has had no contact with them for quite some time, nor will she until her mission is completed, which could take weeks."

"We will have to discuss this matter," Robinson said. "Thank you for your cooperation, Vice Admiral Osman."

"You are welcome," Serin said, standing. "Oh, by the way, where is Admiral Gilden? I noticed that she wasn't here."

A few of the Admirals shifted uncomfortably. Admiral Gilden, like Smithe, abused children, physically and sexually. Serin leaked all of her secrets to UNSC high command as well as the press, and Gilden was quickly arrested.

"She…is currently indisposed," Admiral Rabi said.

"Such a shame that something happened to her," Serin said.

"Yes, a real shame."

"Well, if you need me, Admirals, I shall be in my office." Serin turned to leave, not waiting for permission to leave the hearing.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Sergeant Major William Bryce lead his marines in their morning exercise. The air was crisp and cool, and Bryce knew it would barely heat up as the day progressed. They had been stationed on Chi Rho for over two weeks now, and he was just getting used not only to the cooler weather, but also to the thirty-one hour days. The first few days had been hell, like living in sleep deprivation training, but he was slowly getting the hang of it.

"Last leg, marines, finish strong," he yelled as they ran to their barracks. In a huff, they finished their five mile run. "Good work, marines. Now hit the showers, you smell like road kill."

"The Corp ain't paying us to smell pretty, Serge," Thomas yelled back.

"They're paying you to look pretty, Thomas, and that includes washing your smelly ass," Bryce said. "Double time."

"Yes, sir!" Thomas laughed, walking into the barracks. Bryce had to grin. He thought that being stationed on Chi Rho would be a serious deployment, given its history of being a pyhricc victory for the Covenant, but it was surprisingly relaxed.

He hit the showers, doing his best to shake the surreal feeling from him. On this planet, not just thirty years ago, the UNSC had fought the Covenant to the last man in subterranean tunnels. They might have died, but they had stonewalled an invasion force at least five times the size of their own, and it all happened under his feet. Bryce shook his head. He had to stop thinking about that, it wouldn't do him any good.

"What's on the plate today, Serge?" Brown asked as he left the shower. "More babysitting colonists and construction workers?"

"Don't worry your sweet ass, Brown," Bryce said to the diminutive marine. "It's a cushy job."

"Boring, though," Brown said, smiling as she walked with Bryce.

"It's a job, and you're getting paid to work it."

"Ten-four, Serge. See you at the site."

Bryce quickly threw on his uniform and walked to the administration building for his weekly meeting with the Lieutenant. He met other sergeants as they all filed into the room.

"Think we'll be getting more colonists soon?" Adams asked.

"Should be," Bryce said. "Covenant did a hell of a job wrecking this dust ball, and we need more men fixing it."

"Why couldn't they glass it?"

"Probably because we tore them a new asshole and they were too raw about it to do anything."

"Well, whatever the reason, it gives us a break."

"I take it everyone is here," Lieutenant Balakirev said as he walked in. "Good, we are. Good morning, gentlemen and women. How is every platoon doing?"

"We're all doing fine, sir," Bryce said.

"Good, good," Balakirev said. He turned on the holographic projector. "Things are going on schedule. We're due to get another shipment of supplies and colonists by the end of the day, and we'll soon have long range Slipspace detection operational. Slowly but surely, this colony is coming back online. We're doing good work here. Is there anything to report?"

The sergeants shook their heads.

"Good. Orders are the same as always, patrol the colony and assist as needed. Dismissed."

Balakirev left the room as the Sergeants meandered out. Bryce took a quick look to see if he was out of range.

"Alright, we have six 'goods' in this morning's speech. Who's got the lucky number?" Bryce said, pulling out his wallet.

"That'll be me," Sergeant Willis said, grinning.

"You again, Sarah? Come on, that's like the fourth time you've won," Adams groaned.

"Keep your bitching, Adams. It's paying me drinking money," Willis said, collecting the betting pool.

"Figures it was you," Bryce said, handing over his bet. "What you on schedule for?"

"Patrolling the east side," Willis said.

"I got the docks. Dammit, you always get the best assignments."

"What can I say? I'm just lucky," Sarah grinned, walking away. Bryce watched her.

"You're talking to her about being lucky?" Adams said, walking up to Bryce. "You've got to be the luckiest man here, getting to tap that ass."

"I'm neither confirming nor denying the notion of an office romance," Bryce grinned.

"You fucking lousy liar."

"What can I say? I just like seeing you get worked up over nothing."

"Nothing, my ass."

* * *

"Hey, Sarge, when are we gonna be done with this chicken shit assignment?" Gomer groaned.

"What did I say about having a job, Private?" Bryce asked from the passenger's seat in the Warthog.

"It's just this planet; there's nothing to do here."

"You watch your mouth, a lot of good men and women lost their lives here fighting the Covenant here," Bryce snapped. Gomer was a typical Earth kid, expecting thrills at every turn.

"I know the history, Sarge," Gomer said. "It's just…shit, you think they'd make a few good bars or clubs before anything else, right?"

"If you want something to do, you can clean the latrines this evening."

"Hey, I'm not knocking the duty or anything," Gomer said, back peddling. Bryce had to agree with him, though. Chi Rho was technically an Inner Colony, but with the loss of the Outer Colonies to the Covenant, suddenly this was in the middle of butt fuck nowhere. They couldn't even get a decent extranet connection.

"Nickels, how are the ships coming in?" Bryce asked.

"Coming in just fine, Sarge," the Corporal said from the Warthog over. "Everything is coming in on schedule, just like clockwork."

"Good." Bryce took a look at the small team of Warthogs trailing behind them. Every marine looked far too relaxed, and Bryce couldn't blame them. The docks were the least exciting part of an already unexciting posting. "Alright, let's head back and get some early chow."

"Roger that," Nickels said, spinning the wheel of the Warthog.

"Platoon night out, marines, we're gonna find some fun," Bryce yelled. "Who knows? We might be able to take Willis' platoon on in a game or two of gravball if you sissies can handle your booze this time around."

"Hey, fuck you, Sarge," a marine laughed.

Bryce was turning the Warthog around when he saw lightning flash across the sky.

"Anyone know if we're supposed to get some storms up here?" He asked.

"Negative, Sarge, the weather was supposed to be clear for the week."

Bryce looked up at the overcast skies. Clouds didn't count for shit on Chi Rho, but he still couldn't shake the habit. Then he saw the outline of a ship breaking through.

"What the fuck…"

The ship was a construction ship. It was on fire, cut in two as it slowly fell into the ocean. Bryce suddenly wanted to run as far away as he could.

"Sarge, what he fuck just happened?" Nickels asked.

Bryce flicked through the Warthog's comms channels until he found the planetary marine channel.

"…Get a line out of here! We need reinforcements now!"

"Repeat, there are three Covenant vessels in orbit. They have taken out the observation station and are positioning for troop deployment."

"Gomer, get me HQ," Bryce snapped, fear gripping him. The private fumbled with the channel, then slapped the radio in his hand. "HQ, this is Delta Platoon. What is the status?"

The channel buzzed, then went quiet as the sky flashed again. Bryce looked up to see orbital plasma fire streak down and hit the base.

"No, no, no, no," he gasped. "Platoon, we're heading out! Beat it back to the HQ, we have to find survivors and regroup."

Bryce stood on the accelerator, and the Warthog shot off, it's tires squealing. His squad was quick to follow him. As they drove through the city, Bryce saw civilians running for their lives. Many headed to the base, while some fled to the port. Bryce looked up and could see Covenant drop ships flying in, followed by Banshees and Phantoms.

"This can't be happening," Gomer muttered. "It's not real."

"Get ahold of yourself, marine," Bryce snapped, not feeling very courageous himself.

Soon the patrol arrived at the base. The administrative building was a smoldering crater where it used to be. Panic washed over Bryce.

"Shit, we lost HQ," he muttered. Marines the base over were running around, carrying weapons to and from the armory. "Marine! What is going on?"

"The Covenant have landed, sir," one of the ground marines yelled.

"I can fucking see that! What is going on? HQ was hit, who's the ranking officer?"

"I don't know, they're all dead. We gotta get ready, they're coming!"

Bryce turned around, just in time to see a wave of Covenant bearing down on the base. His blood ran cold when he saw brutes killing civilians. Jackals wasted no time in eating the dead, and grunts by the thousands followed.

"Oh, shit." His mind went blank for a brief second. "Get fire on those brutes! Save the civilians!"

Bryce cut the wheel of the Warthog and sped to the entrance of the base.

"Gomer, get on that turret!"

Stiffly, the Private climbed to the back and primed the gun. Soon it began spitting out lines of tracers into the Covenant's lines.

"Move! I want more turrets, dammit!" Bryce turned to a group of marines at the entrance. "Go to the motor pool, get more Warthogs."

"Yes, sir."

"Do we have radios?"

"No, just our personal ones."

"Just great." Bryce keyed and open channel. "This is Sergeant Major Bryce. All marines fall back to base, we have to repel covenant forces. Rescue as many civvies as you can, but get your ass back to base."

He didn't wait to hear a response. Bryce jumped out of the Warthog and primed his assault rifle. He looked up and could see the brutes charging.

"Shit!"

A few were cut down by the Warthog's chain guns, but many still got through. Bryce emptied half a clip into one before it slammed into him, sending him flying.

"Sarge! Protect the Sarge!" Someone yelled. The brute shuddered as the marines combined their fire on it, and finally fell dead.

"Get fire back on those Covvies," Bryce gasped, struggling to his feet. He grabbed another shaking private. "You, get your friends and raid the armory. We need as many weapons as we can get. Understood?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good." He turned to another Corporal. "You, find a working radio, one with planet-wide comm capabilities. We need to send help."

Bryce looked up. The lines of the base were simple sandbags behind chain link fence, and marines were huddled behind each of them, firing and taking cover. More Warthogs soon drove up to reinforce the line, but the Covenant kept on coming. He reloaded before stalking to the front lines again.

There, he fought with his men. Grunts were falling by the dozen, only to be replaced with more. Brutes lead assault teams, and jackals provided cover with their shields, forming phalanxes the brutes could hide behind. Bryce heard a spiker hiss, and the man next to him died.

"Sir!" A private ran up to him as Bryce held the dying marine. "We need you back here, we have teams on comms, asking for directions."

"Get an officer to help with that."

"Sir, I think they're all dead. Only Balakirev made it out, and he's injured."

"Jesus fuck," Bryce said. His hands were shaking. "Take my position, or get some more damn heavy weapons up here."

"Yes, sir."

Bryce carefully made his way back from the front lines. He saw sniper teams lying on the roofs of the barracks, and men took aim at Banshees with rocket launchers, but the Covenant kept coming. Ahead, he could see a small picnic table set up with comms gear and maps.

"What's going on?" He asked.

"Sir, we have Staff Sergeant Willis on line," a corporal said. He handed Bryce the mike.

"Willis, this is Bryce. Are you there?"

"Jesus fuck, am I glad you're here," Willis said. Bryce could hear plasma fire in the background. "Me and the remains of my squad need extraction, we're holed up in grid twenty-eight by nineteen, in the shopping center."

"Sir, that's a hotbed of covenant activity," the corporal said, pointing to the map.

"How many covvies are there, Sarah?"

"Far too many, this was one of their LZs," Willis responded.

"How the fuck are you still alive?"

"Lucky, I guess."

"You sure got that tattooed on your ass," Bryce said. He paused, thinking of how to break the news to her. "Listen, Willis, we can't get you. We have far too many covvies at base, and they're almost getting in. You need to move yourself, or stay put."

"Understood. And Bryce? It's been nice knowing you."

"You're not dead yet, Willis. Give 'em Hell, marine." Bryce dropped the microphone and pounded the table. "Dammit, dammit, dammit."

"Sir, I'm getting a line on the planetary channel," the corporal said.

"Put it on."

"Marine base, this is Sierra Zero-One-Six, we are en route to your location. What's the status on covenant anti-air capabilities?"

"Say again? What is your call sign?"

"Sierra Zero-One-Six."

"I'm not familiar with that call sign, sir," the corporal said, shaking his head.

"Sierra, this is Sergeant Major Bryce. Are you a UNSC friendly?"

"Roger that."

"Then we'll take your help." Bryce turned to the corporal. "Any anti-air?"

"None that we can see."

"Sierra, we have no eyes on covenant anti-air, expect the worse."

"Roger that. ETA five minutes."

"Corporal, do we have any heavy armaments?" Bryce asked.

"Yes sir, we have three Scorpions, but we can't find any of the drivers."

"Goddammit! How many other marines have made it back?"

"Only two patrols, sir. Not counting Sergeant Willis, four are MIA."

"Goddammit, goddammit." Bryce's head spun, thinking of ideas. "Where's Lieutenant Balakirev?"

"He took a head injury, non-lethal, but he's out of commission right now, moved to the barracks for treatment."

"Just great. How are we doing at repelling the assault?"

"We're holding right now, but we need more men. The Covenant outnumber us, and we don't have enough guns here."

"How long can we hold out?" Bryce asked.

"Honestly? I'm amazed we held out this long."

Bryce sighed.

"Looks like I won't be meeting you, Sarah," he muttered under his breath.

"Sir? We've got a Pelican inbound," the corporal said, tapping Bryce on the shoulder. He looked up and could see the drop ship flying in.

"Who do we know has access to a drop ship?" He asked.

"I can't think of any, sir. All ships got hit when the covenant came in system."

The single Pelican touched down ten meters from the comms post. Bryce was walking over when the doors fell and green armored Spartans jumped out. Bryce stopped dead in his tracks as thirty streamed out and towards the base's parameter. One, however, turned and trotted to Bryce. His helmet's tiny HUD identified the Spartan as Chief Petty Officer Third Class, Cameron.

"Sergeant Major Bryce," the Spartan said, stopping in front of him. In her arms, she held a designated marksman's rifle. "Spartan Zero-One-Six. Where is your commanding officer?"

"Uh, he's in the barracks, ma'am. Being treated for a head wound," Bryce shakily saluted. "I'm ranking officer right now."

"Very well. Let me know when he's up and about. For the time, we'll repel the Covenant."

Bryce watched the Spartan jog off towards the frontlines. The other Spartans were already there, fighting with the marines, who were staring at them with shocked reverence until the Covenant fire forced them to pay attention. Bryce started to walk to the front.

"Sir? Where are you going?" The corporal asked.

"To the front. You have comms, corporal."

He jogged there quick, just in time to see the Spartans in action. They were single handedly driving the Covenant back. Many had assault rifles, but a few, like the Chief Petty Officer, had DMRs. Bryce could see how quickly they were killing; Covenant went down missing their heads every second. Brutes roared at the new challenge, and were quickly taken down. The Spartans shot, reloaded, and shot again, barely even reacting at the occasional fire coming their way. Some shots sparked off their shields, while other times they would jump aside, unnaturally quick, and a charge plasma shot spun away behind them, hitting the ground or a light post.

From the Covenant lines, a Chieftain strode out, accompanied by a heavily armed guard. He glared at the Spartans and charged, dodging a few shots while trailing his gravity hammer. Bryce almost wet himself as the Chieftain tried to hit a Spartan, the gravity hammer hitting the ground and sending out terrible shockwaves. The Spartan easily dodged and stuck the assault rifle in the Chieftain's face. The Brute's shields sparked as he reached out to slap the Spartan, sending him flying. The Spartans combined their fire, and the Chieftain's shields slipped out.

Suddenly, in front of Bryce, a brute honor guard roared, hefting a fuel rod cannon. The green projectile was all Bryce could see. Just as suddenly, a Spartan was in front of him, holding him as the shot connected with his armor. Bryce could hear the Spartan groan in pain as the shields flickered and failed.

Quick as anything Bryce had ever seen, the Spartan was moving, rolling a grenade as he pulled out his M6D pistol. The Brute ignored the shots, but the grenade exploded right at his feet, tearing him apart. The Spartan fell to a knee, his armor smoking, sparking as the shields tried to regenerate.

Ahead of him, the Chieftain was charging another Spartan. He fired, but his assault rifle clacked on empty. He dropped the weapon in resignation as the Chieftain came closer. With what Bryce thought was a brutal grin, he brought the hammer down as if to bat the Spartan like a baseball.

In a blur of motion, the Spartan jumped forward. The head of the hammer passed him by as he threw the Brute, elbowing it in the face and wrenching it out of his grasp in one smooth motion. The Brute staggered away while the Spartan spun around, bringing the hammer above his head, and crushing the Brute like a grape. Bryce could practically feel the Brute's bones snapping, and was even covered with a splash of blood.

Covered in gore, the Spartan charged the remaining line of Brutes with the gravity hammer. They roared and tried to fire, but the fire from the other Spartans pinned them down or threw off their aim. Bryce held his ears as the hammer rang again and again, turning each Brute into a pile of broken bones and bleeding carcasses.

A few more shots rang out, and suddenly the assaulting Covenant party was all dead. The Spartans casually reloaded, and the one with the gravity hammer wiped blood off his faceplate. Bryce's HUD told him the Spartan had an open comm channel. He accessed it, but it was only the Spartan laughing, a deep, belly aching, funniest-thing-he-had-seen laugh. He quickly shut it off.

"Assaulting Covenant are all dead." Bryce turned to see the lead Spartan, Cameron, walk up to him. "Have your men sustained any injuries, Sergeant?"

"Um. Well, I don't know," Bryce stuttered. "It all happened so fast. I was on patrol when it happened."

"Sergeant Bryce!" He turned around to see Balakirev storming out from the barracks, his head wrapped in gauze. Blood was slowly seeping through it. He didn't seem shocked to see the Spartans; instead, he looked furious.

"Lieutenant, you're awake," Bryce stammered.

"I was never knocked out," he hissed, walking up to Bryce. "I want you and your men to arrest these Spartans."

Bryce could feel the Spartan's mood shift. He didn't need to look behind him to know that they were shifting their feet.

"Sir?"

"These Spartans are from the renegade V program," Balakirev yelled. "Five years ago, they stole the UNSC Infinity and went rogue. I want them arrested!"

"Lieutenant, I admire you for wanting to do your duty to the UNSC," Cameron tensely said, "but respectfully, you need to get your priorities straight. We are in the midst of a Covenant invasion; we are here to help."

"You are renegade forces, and will be brought to justice!"

"Sergeant Major, we are here to help," the Petty Officer said to Bryce. "We wish to fight the Covenant for you, but we will retaliate if you try to use force to restrain us."

"Sergeant Major Bryce, as your superior officer, I _demand_ that you arrest these traitors!"

Bryce looked at the Spartans. They were over two meters tall, and could go toe-to-toe with Brutes and win. He had heard of the rumors himself, and knew far too well their history with deserting the UNSC, but he doubted he could do much against them.

"Lieutenant, we couldn't restrain them even if we wanted," he said.

"Are you disobeying an order, Sergeant?" Balakirev hissed, moving in close to intimidate Bryce. "Are you associating with known traitors?"

"No, sir, we just can't—"

"Then arrest them!"

Bryce took a step back from Balakirev. He looked around, and could see that his men were gathering round him, Balakirev, and the Spartans. A few Spartans, namely the one with the stolen gravity hammer, noticed and slowly turned around as if they didn't have a care in the world.

"We're here to help, Sergeant, nothing more or less," the Petty Officer said.

"Lieutenant, we're in the middle of a Covenant invasion."

"Like that matters!"

Bryce took a breath to calm himself. He turned around and saw his platoon. They were staring at him, wondering what he would do.

"Nickels?" The corporal stiffened. "Restrain the Lieutenant."

"Sir?" Nickels said. "Yes, sir."

"What?" Balakirev said as Nickels walked over. He swatted the soldier away. "Sergeant! What is the meaning of this?"

"You'd order your men to their deaths, which could easily be avoided," he said. "Sacrificing soldiers is not an officer's prerogative; I will not let you take those actions, or the lives of my men. Besides, we need all the help we can get, sir." Balakirev pushed Nickels away, and more soldiers moved to help restrain him.

"This is treachery! I'll see you hanged, Bryce, hanged!" Balakirev yelled before a Marine stuffed a rag into his mouth. He was carried back to the barracks.

"It wasn't easy, but you did the right thing," Petty Officer Cameron said behind him. "You can release the Lieutenant when this is over."

"And have him report me for detaining an officer?" Bryce said. His mind spun again.

"We'll cross that bridge when we get there," the Petty Officer said. "Are all of your platoons here?"

"No, we are missing a few near the shopping center."

"We'll help rescue them, but we'll need you or your men's help to direct us."

"We'll help," Gomer said. He suddenly looked less sure of himself as the Spartans looked at him. "Well, we know this area fairly well."

"Then you're with us," Petty Officer Cameron said. "If you don't mind, Sergeant."

"No, they're my men. I'll go with you."

Petty Officer turned around and gestured to her Spartans. It was obvious they were speaking on private comms. Twenty of them broke off.

"Most of my men will stay here to reinforce the base," she said. "Let's grab some Warthogs."

* * *

"Oh God, oh God!"

"Quiet! I know it hurts!"

Willis tried to find more cover in the antique store, but her options were very limited. Peterson was lying next to her, holding his guts in his hands, while Lahr tried to patch him up. Some luck she was having; she dodged the initial shock attack, only to die slower later. Willis held her assault rifle tighter, waiting for the moment to return fire.

Peterson screamed again as Lahr stuffed more gauze pads into his stomach.

"Lahr! What's your ammo status?"

"I've got half a clip, serge."

"Hand it over, you take care of Peterson." Lahr obediently handed over his last clip. Now Willis had one full mag before she had to switch to her sidearm. She peeked out from the antique car door, only to nearly have her head taken off by a plasma bolt. She ducked back, and the bolt hit the door. At least she had the luck to take cover in an antiques shop; the heavy metal car door was easily from the 1920's, and was not only big enough for the three of them to hide behind, but could take more than a few plasma rounds.

_Just gets to mean I die a little later,_ she thought, blind firing. _Lucky._

"Sarge, what are we gonna do?" Lahr asked, resigned.

"Keep on fighting," she said, slapping the last mag home.

"We're almost out of ammo."

"Thank you, Private. Did you have to go to college to get a degree in counting?"

"But what will we do?"

"You've got a knife, don't you?"

"You're joking."

The assault clacked on empty. Willis threw away the useless piece of metal, drawing her pistol.

"Does it _look_ like I'm joking?"

Lahr's head dropped. "No, sergeant."

Willis took out a grunt.

"Damn right I'm not." She reloaded. "You got a sidearm?"

"I lost it in the run here, ma'am."

"What about Peterson?"

"He dropped his, too."

"What happened to him? He stopped screaming. Is he pass out or what?"

"Dead, ma'am."

With her last mag, Willis took out another grunt.

"Just fucking great," she sided, dropping the pistol. The Covenant fire seemed to intensify, and the great big metal door got very hot to the touch. Willis ignored it as she leaned against it.

"What now, ma'am?"

"We wait for some sorry SOB to get close," she said, lazily pulling out her knife.

"What makes you think they'll get close to us?"

Assault rifles filled the air, along with the screams of Grunts and Brutes. Willis jumped a little, but Lahr jumped more.

"What the hell?" Willis poked her head around the door. Covenant were dropping by the dozen, but they were mostly grunts. She looked up and could see Bryce run into the store.

"You dumb son-of-a-bitch!" She yelled, standing up.

"Willis! Move!"

She punched Bryce in the face.

"You just killed yourself _and_ your men coming for me!"

"Jesus, Sarah, just move!" Will stammered. "You got a weapon?"

"It's empty."

"Here," Will shoved two full magazines into her hand. "Now get your men and follow me!"

"Lahr, grab my rifle, we're leaving," Willis snapped. Lahr was quick to pick up the rifle. "So where do you suppose we die now?"

"Not here," Will said, leading them out of the store. In the mall, Covenant were quickly trying to surround them. The marines Bryce had lead were keeping up an impressive volley of fire; Willis could see Grunts and Jackals dropping, while Brutes were eventually taken down with accurate fire.

Bryce lead them to a corner, and Willis almost ran into a giant set of green armor. She jumped back, reflexively snapping her assault rifle up, but an armored hand grabbed it.

"I'm not your enemy," the Spartan said. Willis was surprised to hear a woman's voice come from such a large body.

"Bryce, what the hell is going on here?" She snapped. From across the walkway, more Spartans ran to their position.

"Now's not the time, Willis," Bryce said, holding open a stairway maintenance door.

"Now is a great fucking time," she shot back. "Are these Spartan-IVs? They sure as hell don't make 'em this big."

"We're Spartan-Vs, sergeant," one of the Spartans said.

"Fives? You're wanted. Holy shit, Bryce, I'll kill you if you turned traitor."

Bryce kicked open the bottom door. Out the back of the mall, two Spartans defended a small team of Warthogs. A few marines rode in them.

"We don't have much of a choice," he said, running to a 'Hog. "We needed their help, or the Covenant would've overrun us."

"I'll still kill you if you turned traitor," Willis said, jumping in shotgun while Bryce got into the turret.

"Gomer, hit it," Bryce said.

"Yes, sir," the marine driving said. The convoy quickly left.

"How did they get here?" Willis asked.

"I don't know, Sarah. I was going to ask them when we get a chance to talk."

"Now seems like a pretty good time." Willis turned to the following 'Hog that was full of Spartans. "Hey! How did you get here?"

"Not now, ma'am, we've got Banshees inbound."

"Well, you got any rocket launchers here?" Willis grumbled, turning to Bryce.

"No, they're all back at base."

"Then how do you plan on taking down Banshees? Those chain guns aren't rated for anti-air."

"We'll improvise," Bryce replied. From behind the mall, seven Banshees took to the sky. "Here we go!"

Bryce quickly opened fire, but at the long range, most of the bullets fell. The four Banshees didn't even have to dodge. They returned fire, spitting plasma. The Spartans waited a second before opening fire. They combined the fire from their four turrets, aiming at one Banshee. Willis saw the volley go above, below, and to the left and right of the Banshee. The pilot panicked, dropping down where it got caught in the fire and was shot down.

The Spartans quickly moved to the next Banshee, taking it down the same way. The other two accelerated, jetting forward as if to ram them into the ground. This only put them in the chain gun's range. They tore through the armor like tissue paper. The pilots couldn't even try to dodge. The burning wreckage fell to the ground.

"Oorah!" Willis cheered. "Hey Lahr, we're gonna make it out after all!"

"That's great, sergeant," the private smiled.

The caravan quickly made its way back to headquarters. Willis was surprised to see more Spartans there, and working to fortify their base. Marines dug trenches while Spartans set up guns and barricades. A few even drove Scorpion tanks onto the field.

"You can drive those things?" Bryce asked as they pulled in.

"We're rated to drive just about any UNSC vehicle," one of the Spartans replied.

"Goddamn, never thought I'd love to see this place," Willis said, jumping out as they parked by the barracks. "What happened to HQ?"

"It was one of the first things to get hit," Bryce said.

"Any officers make it out?"

"Just Balakirev."

"Where's he?"

"He," Bryce suddenly trailed off. "He wanted me to arrest the Spartans."

"What, so we can get killed by humans instead of Covenant?" Willis snorted. "Wait, don't tell me you…"

"Yea, I disobeyed him. He's in the brig right now."

Willis punched Bryce again.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" She demanded. Will spat out blood; he took the punch clean.

"Unless you haven't noticed, we don't exactly have a lot of choices here," he said. "We needed the help, and Balakirev might've shot me if I didn't obey him."

"Yea, you're right," Willis said. "I still don't like it."

"Me neither."

"Sergeant Major Bryce?" A Spartan walked up. "Cameron wants you in the comm room."

"Who's Cameron?" Willis asked.

"Petty Officer Third Class," Bryce said. "She's in charge of the Spartans."

"I'm coming, too. Want to ask her a few questions."

"Ma'am, with all due respect, you're not the ranking officer," the Spartan said.

"Have you seen my stripes?" Willis demanded, getting in the Spartan's face. It didn't do much good, the Spartan was easily a head taller than her. She stood up straighter. "I'm a Sergeant Major, too. If Bryce is a ranking officer, than so am I."

"Sir, do you have seniority?" The Spartan asked Bryce.

"I sure as hell don't."

"Very well, ma'am. Follow me."

"Fucking Spartans," Willis spit, following the soldier. "Think everything is so cut-and-dry."

"Now's not the time. They saved our asses, we should at least hear them out."

The Spartan led them to the second floor of the barracks. There, they had set up a more permanent base of operations. They even scavenged a holo table from HQ. It was scorched, but was working. A holographic map of the city was displayed, and a team of Spartans stood around, analyzing the position of the Covenant.

A woman stood at the head of the table, holding her helmet at her side. Willis was shocked. The woman was very pretty, almost too pretty to be a soldier, like she was posing for a magazine. Her hair was immaculately kept, and her skin unusually free of blemishes. Willis wondered how a Spartan could do that; she could barely care to wash her hair every day.

The woman looked up as Bryce and Willis walked to the table.

"Sergeant Major Bryce," she said.

"Petty Officer Third Class Cameron, this is Sergeant Major Sarah Willis," Bryce said. Willis could hear in his voice that he was as caught off guard with the Spartan's appearance as she was.

"Ma'am," was all that Willis could choke out.

"I take it neither of you have seniority," Cameron asked.

"That's right, ma'am," Bryce said.

"Very well. That means that you two are the highest ranking officers of the outpost. You have control of your men, and you will keep us informed of their well-being, is that understood?"

"Yes, ma'am," Willis said. "Uh, ma'am, if you don't mind me asking, how are you here?"

"I have to ask too. We thought the Spartans were running from the UNSC," Bryce said.

"Here's the short version: the UNSC wanted to declare us as a rogue ops before we ran," Cameron said. "We're not rogue. We're patriots. We want to serve the UNSC any way we can, and this is how we figured we can do it. When we stole the Infinity, it was docked with several ONI Prowlers, stealth ships. Once we set up our base of operations, we were sent out to covertly monitor key UNSC colonies and watch over them. We were watching over Chi Rho when the Covenant attacked, and we moved to assist. Is that good enough for now?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Good. Sorry to give you the quick and dirty version, but we need to prioritize here. I hope you can understand."

"Sure, but I want to know everything when we got some breathing time," Willis said.

"Sounds reasonable. Now, to business." Cameron keyed a command, and the holo table centered on the Covenant cruiser above the city. "The Covenant force here is a small raiding party, not a full invasion force. They only came with one cruiser, stationed above the city, and two frigates, which are stationed in orbit. We don't know what they want; it could be to seize construction equipment, it could be a feint to draw UNSC forces away from other locations, it could be to just kill humans. Whatever the cause, it is a fragment of a rogue Covenant group."

"Good thing. I don't think we could take the whole damn army," Bryce said.

"It is good luck. We were able to send a message to the UNSC informing them of the attack; none of your communications have gone out. We're assuming that the UNSC has received our message and is gathering forces; they should be here in four days. So we hold out until then, and try to take down that cruiser. Sound good?"

"Ma'am, I'm all for kicking the Covvies in whatever gonads they have, but we got sucker punched," Willis said. "Do we have the gear for raiding a cruiser?"

"We have a bag o' tricks we can play with," Cameron grinned.

"That's terrifying," Willis grimaced.

"What about the civilians? How will we protect them?" Bryce asked.

"That's what we need you to find out," Cameron said. "Take inventory, measure combat readiness and supply status. Report to me when done, and we'll help you save the civilians. Don't worry about us, we have enough supplies to last us."

"Understood," Bryce saluted.

"Have at. We'll be planning our assault."


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

The barracks was as raggedy as it has ever been. All of the surviving marines had helped clean it up after finishing fortifications, but it still looked like it was through the ringer. Many walls had to be fixed up with quick-set-concrete, and the mismatching tones just made it seem worse. But it was plugged up, didn't let any wind in, and the jerry rigged heating system was working. It was the best that Bryce could ever hope for.

"Man, I wish the mess hall survived," he said, gathering up his tools.

"Stop bitching, we're still alive," Sarah said.

"I'm so glad you're here to put things in perspective for me," Will said.

"You know it. Now be a good bitch and put those away for me. I might chip a nail." Sarah smacked his ass.

"Jesus, Sarah, someone could have seen," he hissed.

Willis smiled as she walked away. Grumbling, Bryce followed her outside. Many of the marines were helping set up temporary tents for the surviving civilians. Most of the tents were simple dining tarps, meant to cover tables from a storm. There were far more civilians than tarps.

"All this is great, but what do you think the Spartans would do when help comes?" She asked. They looked out at the base; Spartans were patrolling the fence, while a few were working on the Scorpion tanks and three others were helping fix the medical building.

"They'll run," Will said. "They're a rogue ops, remember? Doesn't matter how many civilians or marines they save; they'll get thrown in the brig and sentenced to death faster than you can sneeze."

"Assuming they get caught," she said. The two walked to the med building.

"You'd think they'd kill themselves?"

"What else is there for them? They'll get arrested and interrogated, _then_ killed. If we can get an idea of where the Spartans are hiding their forward operations base…"

"Yea, good point." They'd send in the cavalry and wipe them up. The UNSC hated rogue groups, especially ONI, especially when their own projects went up in flames.

Will opened the door to the med building. With the mess hall gone, it was serving as the marines' mess hall as well as medical. Many of the doctors survived, and those that weren't helping civilians outside were helping serving food.

Marines were stuffing their faces, and a group of Spartans sat to the side, calmly eating. With their helmets off, Bryce could see that they were all painfully white. At least the ones who were ethnically white were painfully white; many were darker skinned, but still seemed pale. He figured that spending that much time in a suit of armor would do that to a person. He wished he had armor like theirs.

Sarah grabbed a tray. "Let's see what we can get from our Chief Petty Officer," she said.

Cameron was sitting with her men, but at the head of the table. There were a few open spots by her.

"Sounds good," Bryce said, piling food on his tray.

The Spartans looked up at them as they walked from the food line, then back up as they got closer. No words were spoken, but Bryce caught a wink and a shove. Soon Cameron looked up at them as they got to the head of the table.

"Sergeant Majors. How can I help you?" She asked as they sat down.

"Just want to talk," Sarah said, suddenly all 'just us girls' womanly charms. "What's it like being a Spartan?"

"What's it like being a marine?" Cameron asked back, all smiles in return.

"Sorry?" Sarah faltered.

"I don't know how to explain it to you. Being a soldier is all I've ever been. For me, everything is normal, but I know it isn't normal for you. So, a better question would be to see how you like being a marine. Kind of gives you an idea of what the question is like," Cameron said.

"Are you all this smart?" Bryce asked.

"We have to be. Thinking is an integral part to our operations. Can't have a muscle bound simpleton walking around, giving orders."

"Tell that to our LT," Sarah snorted, flipping back to Marine Mode.

"I'm sure he's a good commander, but he made the wrong choice, backed the wrong loyalty," Cameron said.

"He's alright," Bryce admitted. "A little head up his ass, but a good guy."

"Good to know that UNSC didn't change their officer program when we left," Cameron grinned. A few of the Spartans chuckled.

"So where did you guys go after you ran?" Sarah asked.

"Classified."

"Aw, come on, not a little hint?" She pleaded, going back into girly-girl mode.

"Alright, fine," Cameron relented. "It's in space."

Sarah glared at Cameron, leaving girly-girl mode as fast as she entered it.

"And risk you telling the UNSC, so they could come and wipe us out?" Cameron smiled. "Sorry, I can't."

"Any particular reason you're so damn pretty?" Sarah growled. Cameron coolly returned her stare. Bryce felt like she crossed a line.

"I look how I look because it's how I want to look," she evenly replied. "It's a bit of an obsession."

"So you are human after all, aren't you?"

"Yes, we are. We have flaws, ticks, obsessions, and die just like you do." Bryce looked around, and saw the Spartans giving them a cautious eye.

"Fair enough," Bryce said, stepping in to cover for Sarah. "It's good to know you're still human and not some cyborgs. But what do you do with your time?"

"We've set up our base, and are sending out teams to monitor UNSC colonies, and assisting where we can. As you can tell from us being here, I'm sure."

"Why are you so young?" Sarah said. Dammit, it was like she liked screwing over Bryce's plans on playing nice. "Did they give you any shots to make you pretty for a poster?"

"I'm twenty-one years old," Cameron frostily replied.

Bryce stared at her. Twenty-one? She was seven years younger than he was?

"This is need to know info," a Spartan said. She had an incredibly squad face.

"I assumed the UNSC would have already told them."

"Twenty-fucking-one?" Sarah hissed.

"Apparently not," the Spartan said.

"Hmm," Cameron grunted.

"What the fuck is wrong with you people? Did you volunteer right at eighteen?" Sarah demanded.

"Bryce is getting it," the Spartan with the squat face said.

"What are you getting?" Sarah said.

"The Spartan-Vs went rogue five years ago. You were sixteen when you enlisted?" Will asked.

"Younger," Cameron said.

"You were child soldiers?" he gasped.

"Technically, we weren't deployed to fight when we were children; those were the Spartan-IIIs," Cameron said. "But we were trained from six years old."

"Six?" Sarah sputtered.

"To become Spartans, we were genetically enhanced when we were around thirteen years old," Cameron said. "We were accelerated through puberty, then enhanced. It…killed half of us." Bryce could see that it was delicate territory for not only Cameron, but for the other Spartans as well. Many lowered their eyes or looked away. Cameron unconsciously brushed her hair back. "But it made us Spartans."

"What kind of sick freak uses kids as soldiers?" Sarah demanded.

"ONI."

"Bullshit."

"The Spartan program was created to fight Outer Colony Insurrectionists. Civil war would have destroyed humanity. We were needed. Then the Covenant threat appeared, and we were given a new purpose."

"But ONI said that the Spartans originally kidnapped children," Bryce said.

"A lie," Cameron said. "They authorized it."

"But…you went rogue."

"Because of our plans for the next generation of Spartans."

"Which are?"

"Cameron?" The squat faced Spartan said.

"ONI already knows," Cameron said. "We create our own children, which would fall within the desirable genetic range, and train them as Spartans."

Bryce couldn't believe what he was hearing. Child soldiers, creating new child soldiers? Suddenly the Spartans looked very evil.

"Are you all such sick, twisted fucks?" Sarah hissed. "You plan on using your own kids?"

"It is the only logical way to create real Spartans. And mark my words, humanity _will_ need real Spartans," Cameron said.

"You'd never do that to your own kid," she said.

Cameron reached to her belt and pulled out a holo picture. It was her, holding a boy and a girl. They were all smiling.

"This is Roc and Alice," she said. "They're four years old, and they start training in three years."

Bryce felt like throwing up. Sarah stared at her, trying to talk.

"Those…are you kids?" She finally managed to ask.

"Yes," Cameron said, as if the answer was obvious. "We all have children."

Will looked around. There were fifteen Spartans at the table, fifteen more outside, working or patrolling. How many more were out in the universe? One hundred? No, it couldn't be.

"You're creating your own army?" He asked.

"To protect and serve the UNSC. We're patriots."

"Like fuck you are. We don't need you, you…you sick ass motherfuckers," Sarah sputtered.

"So you would have preferred us to leave you to die at your base, or in that store in the mall?" Cameron asked. "You would have preferred us to not fight the Covenant? Let them glass planets unopposed? Without us, humanity would never have survived. You need us."

Bryce hated to say it, but she was right. He leaned back and bumped into a marine. Turning around, he saw the mess hall had gone quiet, and everyone was staring at the Spartans. The Spartans, meanwhile, were growing antsy. The marines were armed and outnumbered them, after all.

"Would you like us to leave you here, to fend for yourself?" Cameron asked, steely eyed. "I'm sure the Brutes would make quick work of you. And I can tell you that it won't be painless; they want humans to suffer."

Sarah looked like she was about to take up Cameron's offer.

"We want to survive," Bryce quickly said.

"So you need us?" Cameron asked. Damn her, she wanted him to say it.

"We need you," he said. Sarah abruptly stood up, leaving him at the table. Many of the marines grumbled, but they didn't speak out. They wanted to live as much as he did.

"Then you should get used to us," Cameron said finally. She put the holo picture away.

* * *

Bryce opened the door to the jail cell. Balakirev sat up from the rough wooden bench.

"Sergeant Major William Bryce," he said sarcastically. "To whom do I owe the pleasure?"

"Did you know about the Spartans?" Bryce asked.

"Can you elaborate, Sergeant Major?" Balakirev said, acid in his voice. "I do not know what you are referring to."

"Knock that shit off. I want to know if you knew what the Spartans were doing when they went rogue."

"Of course I did," he said. "They tell us in ONI Officer School."

"Why don't they tell everyone?"

"You got stripes. You don't need to know."

"Bullshit."

"I take it you've talked to the Spartans?" Balakirev asked.

"They've told us everything."

"Huh. I'd thought they'd have left a few details out."

"You don't want everyone knowing that ONI kidnapped kids to make Spartans," Bryce said, inspiration hitting him.

"That's right," Balakirev said. "We can't end up having egg on our face. We might trigger another insurrection, hell, a full blown civil war. That'll be the end of humanity."

"That's why you wanted me to arrest the Spartans. You didn't want them to tell us what ONI did."

"That and the Spartans are a rogue ops that has to be eliminated."

"Of course," Bryce spat. "So you'd kill everyone to keep this a secret?"

"If I was ordered to."

"You're probably wishing the Covvies would kill us all and save you the trouble."

"Kind of. It would make covering this up easier," Balakirev admitted. "But once the UNSC is here, they'll arrest you, and that'll be the last anyone sees of you."

"You manipulative motherfucker." Bryce hesitated, but make a move to unlock the cell door.

"What are you doing?" Balakirev asked.

"Freeing you. We need all hands on board, especially to watch the civilians, and I'm willing to risk letting you go."

"Fuck you, Bryce. I'm staying right here."

"What?"

"I've been mutinied; thrown in jail for doing my duty. Once the UNSC shows up, they'll free me and give me a medal. If I fight with you, they'll say I'm a deserter and will probably kill me to make an example."

Bryce stared at Balakirev.

"I've got a win-win situation here. If we live through this invasion, they'll call me a hero for obeying my orders. And I don't have to fight to do it."

"You asshole," Bryce hissed. "You goddamn cocksucker. You like this, don't you?"

Balakirev just smiled. Bryce spun on his heel and slammed the door behind him. He hated the lieutenant's smile, especially when he was getting laughed at.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

The Spartans patrolled the fence, followed by teams of marines, who gave them plenty of berth. The civilians looked on with awe and wonder that the marines no longer had. A few of the Spartans even stopped to talk with them. It sent the civilians walking away practically singing their praises.

Not so much for the marines. Word of the Spartan's reason of defection made troop moral drop like a rock, but no one could deny that they were needed if they wanted to live through the attack. The less the civilians knew, the better.

Willis tried to remind herself that the Spartans were needed as she and Bryce reported for the mission debrief. Cameron stood at the head of the holotable, and three Spartans flanked her.

"As per your report, we have minimal ammunition, personal and equipment to mount a proper defense," she said, running her hand through her short hair. The holotable showed the marine's HQ and the covenant's cruiser parked over the city. "A good defense would require ten times the men and weapons than the Covenant have. Frankly, I'm surprised they haven't moved to kill us."

"You probably scared them off," Willis said frostily. Two Spartans turned, returning her cold gaze.

"We do have a reputation among the Covenant," Cameron evenly replied. She turned back to the holotable. "The best defense is a good offense, so we will be going ahead with our plan to destroy the Covenant cruiser stationed above the city."

"Did they train the sanity out of your head, or did they recruit you like that?" Willis asked. Bryce glared at her, telling her to stop.

"Cut the head off the snake, and the body dies," Cameron replied.

"And how, pray tell, do you suggest we destroy something a few UNSC cruisers can't?" Sarah shot back.

"We have five Havoc tactical nukes," Cameron said. Sarah stood up straighter. "Part of our bag o' tricks we told you about. We sneak in, arm it at their reactor, then blow it sky high."

"You want to kill whoever is leading the Covenant to buy time for the UNSC to come," Bryce said.

"That's correct."

"Sounds like commando shit," Willis said. "I volunteer."

The Spartans looked at her with what seemed to be newfound respect. Bryce looked at her like she was crazy.

"We won't turn down the help," Cameron said, her voice still staying even. "If you know of any men who would volunteer, ask them."

"Wilco."

"Bryce?" Cameron asked.

"Someone needs to hold down the fort," he said.

"No shame in protecting the base; in fact, I'm glad you volunteered for the duty," Cameron said. "The Covenant might launch a counter-attack while we're away, and we need to protect the civilians. I'll leave most of my men here."

"Most?" Bryce asked.

"This is going to be a blitz; a small team, moving fast. We get in and get out as fast as we can. Remember, we're outnumbered. Large numbers would slow us down, drain our ammo."

Willis nodded. It all made sense.

"We will, however, need a diversion." Cameron typed at the table, and the Scorpion tanks materialized, moving straight through the city to the cruiser. "Sergeant Major Bryce, we'll need you to give us some of your men. They'll be moving through the city with a small team of Spartans, half of the men I will be leaving at base.

"With the tanks, they'll make it look like we're making a straight assault. They'll get one-third to half of the way there, and turn around, beating it double-time back to base where they will defend it. That'll draw their attention, allowing us to slip up to the ship and up the gravity elevator. Bryce, what is the best way for us to move?"

Bryce looked at the map. It seemed really good; the Spartans had updated the map to account for bombed streets and closed roads.

"It still looks like the pier is your best bet," he said, pointing it out. "Storm drains run along the length of the coast; it should get you most of the way."

"Are those drains even working?" Willis asked. "They could be bombed out, or flooded."

"We'll deal with it," Cameron said.

"What about me?" She asked.

"You volunteered. You can deal with it, too."

Willis sneered. The bitch had her there. Still, it sounded like fun.

"We will be on radio silence to mask our presence as long as possible. That means that we'll be limited line-of-sight tight beam transmissions to relay news; we'll effectively be dead to the world. Sergeant Major Bryce, you and Petty Officer Bridget will be on your own command. Sergeant Major Willis, pick your men, but limit them to no more than five. We move out at 0700. Dismissed."

* * *

The tanks were fueled, loaded and ready to move. The marines walked to Warthogs, loading up and jumping on. Bryce walked among them, more nervous than he has even been. There was no talking, no gossiping, no joking. Just the straight faced…despair? Determination? Bryce couldn't tell. His marines moved with purpose, with energy, but something about it hinted at dread. They had faced the Covenant before, and held the line.

Or had they? They practically broke when the Brutes had charged them. Only the Spartans had saved them. Could it be the surprise attack? The lack of alertness, being coddled into apathy by the far-away colony job? Whatever had affected the Marines, they still hadn't gotten over it. But they needed to, and they needed to get over it fast. 0700 was rapidly approaching.

The Spartans were much better. Those that were staying to draw attention and defend the base moved quickly, crisply, stocking Scorpion tanks and their personal ammunition. Cameron and her commando squad were triple- and quadruple- checking their equipment. Some even sparred, their fists moving in a blaze as they struck, blocked, parried and countered.

Willis' small squad seemed the most nervous of all. They were all volunteers, but they were obviously sweating bullets. All but Willis herself. She seemed as calm as the Spartans, drinking a bottle of beer as she waited. Strictly non-regulations, but no one was about to stop her. She was volunteering for commando duty, after all.

Suddenly Bryce couldn't take his eyes off her. She held the bottle in two fingers, lifting it up to her mouth where she pulled at the alcohol. She was sitting on a foldable chair, two of the chair's legs lifted while one leg was propped up on an ammo box. She looked just like a Marine, dirty, greasy, loud and abrasive. But Bryce couldn't stop looking at her, wondering if this was the last time he would ever see her. He wanted to stop her, hold her back, even though she would curse and belittle him.

"Worried?" A Spartan asked. Bryce jumped; it was the Spartan with the squat face who sat next to Cameron.

"Yea, I'm fucking worried," he said. Why did he say that? He should have said 'I'm fine.' Was he really that stressed?

"Don't worry about Sergeant Major Willis," the Spartan said. "Cameron will make sure to keep her and her men safe."

"Yea, sure," Bryce said. "You worried? Or do Spartans not get worried?"

"We get worried," the Spartan said. "Just like regular humans."

"Really? Do you get names like regular humans, or are those assigned?" He asked.

The Spartan gave him a hard look, but Bryce somehow held his ground.

"Bridget."

"Nice to meet you. You nervous?"

"Always before a mission."

"Really."

"A little bit of nervousness is a good thing. Makes you cautious, keeps your body ridged, at attention. You make reactions quicker."

"What if you're too nervous?"

"Then you're a wreck," she said flatly. "Although I could give you some medication if you want."

"I don't like getting doped up."

"Neither do I."

Bridget stared out at the volunteer commando squad with Bryce, waiting for the time to come.

"I have a question," Bryce said.

"About?"

"Well, who takes care of your kids?" Bridget turned to look at him, her squat face impossible to read. "Cameron said everyone has kids. Who takes care of them while you're out on deployment?"

"It's a communal effort," Bridget said tightly. "Those not on deployment work on our base, and take care of the children."

"So they're with their father?"

"We decided to not tell them who their biological father is until they come of age. Or their biological mother, if the couple wishes it. It depends on the couple."

"What do you mean? It takes two to tango."

"We're impregnated via in vitro fertilization. Our augmentations impair our sexual drives."

Bryce cringed a little from Bridget's straightforwardness.

"Then, we raise the children with our partner."

"Partner?"

"Yes."

Bryce looked at Bridget, then over to Cameron. Suddenly it made sense why the two were sitting so close in the mess hall.

"She's your partner."

"Yes."

"Oh. Sorry, I…didn't know."

"You don't know how we live. I don't blame you for your ignorance."

"Do…do they really let you get away with fraternization?"

"What?" Suddenly Bridget was giving him a hard, puzzled look.

"Fraternization," he said evenly. "She's your commanding officer, right? Last I checked, that was frowned upon."

"We don't fraternize."

"But you said you two were partners."

"Yes, we're partners. What does fraternization have to do with this?"

"What? When you're partners, you're…together."

"Yes. What does it have to do with fraternization?"

"You're romantically involved," Bryce finally broke down.

"No, we're not." Bridget looked at him like he was crazy. Bryce felt out of his mind.

"What? But you said you're partners."

"We are. Don't you have a partner?"

"I don't swing that way," Bryce said. Now Bridget looked exasperated.

"A partner. Someone you eat with, fight with, cover and look out for," she said. "I thought you and Willis were partners."

"Wait, you mean like friends?"

"What else would I mean?"

"I thought…"

Bridget shook her head. "We look out for each other, like any _partner_ would. We raised our children together, and will help train them and their partners when the time comes."

"What happened to the father?"

"The fathers decided to raise their own children. It was a mutual agreement."

"So…you got knocked up—"

"Impregnated," Bridget corrected. Bryce squirmed again.

"By another man?"

"Two different men. Like I said, it was done via in vitro fertilization."

"Yea, you mentioned it. And you raise your kids yourself?"

"Correct. Right now, they're under the care of other off-rotation Spartans. Cameron would say that 'it takes a village to raise a child.'"

Bryce shook his head, walking away. Why couldn't it be 0700 already?

* * *

The next thing Bryce knew, it was 0700, and he suddenly wished it wasn't. Willis threw away her empty beer bottle and walked over to him.

"Hitting the sauce before a mission?" He nervously chuckled.

"It's just one beer. For my nerves," she hastily added. Her nervousness seemed to put him at ease.

"Just do me a favor, will you?" He asked.

"Don't be going soft on me," she warned.

"Don't you go dying on me," Bryce replied.

Willis fixed him with a hard stare. "Touché."

Stiffly, Willis walked off back to the Spartans. Bryce stood rooted in place.

"Sergeant?" Gomer walked up to him. He looked ready, but his eyes betrayed him. "Orders?"

"Get everything ready," he said, forcing himself to be calm. He was in charge, dammit. "Start the Warthogs and the Scorpions. We wait for Cameron and Willis to get into position."

He looked over his shoulder. Willis and her squad was leading the Spartans out through the back of the base and towards the pier. They silently crept along, walking single file.

"We move on their signal."

Bryce walked to the tanks, sitting on the armored skirts of one. He wished he could have told Sarah how he felt, but he knew that if he had the chance, he wouldn't be able to talk. Maybe she was the same way as she left; wanting to talk, but nothing needed to be said. He fiddled with his assault rifle, checking the magazine in the breech and the ones in his pockets. The tanks engines turned over and caught, Spartans drove them out into the open of the base. Bryce swayed as the war machine he sat on moved, but didn't move to jump off.

Marines and Spartans moved to the Warthogs. Many Spartans walked, leaving the Marines to ride the 'Hogs. In the middle of the base, the three Scorpions sat in perfect line-up with the Warthogs flanking them. It was all very official looking. Bridget walked up to Bryce.

"I hope you and your men are ready," she said.

"I hope so, too."

Bridget snorted. Was it laughter? Before Bryce could read her face again, she slipped her helmet on. Bryce's personal radio squawked, just for a second.

"That's the signal," Bridget said.

"I know." Bryce stood up on the tank. "Move out! Go!"

The Spartan driving the tank hit the gas and Bryce struggled to keep his balance. The tanks quickly fell into single file line and moved out of the base. The Marines standing guard saluted as they passed. The Spartans on duty simply watched them, subtly nodding to other Spartans. Behind them, the civilians applauded. They didn't know they were a giant diversion.

As soon as they were out past the fence, the 'Hogs roared around them, moving ahead, behind, and to the sides of them. The Spartans that walked followed the tanks. It was time to kick the hornet's nest.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 9

The storm drains were partially flooded. Dirty water washed up to Willis' knee as she and her squad mucked through the pipes. The Spartans ahead of her easily pushed through the water, their armor making it easy for them. She wanted some of that armor herself, dammit.

Cameron, walking point, held up her fist. The line came to a quick stop. Willis strained, finally hearing the boom of a tank's main cannon.

"It's started," Cameron said, stating the obvious. "We're about halfway there. We're making good time."

"Then we need to step it up," Willis said. "Can't leave their ass hanging out in the wind forever."

The Spartans nodded and plodded along. Willis followed, her men following her.

* * *

The chopper exploded into pieces of shrapnel. Bryce reflexively covered his face with his hand.

"Tank beats chopper!" The Spartan driving laughed.

Bryce didn't like this Spartan. He laughed at every explosion, hooted at every kill, and worst of all, seemed to chuckle and talk to himself.

"Try not to worry about him," Bridget said, walking up to Bryce. "He's a little out of it."

"'A little?' He's fucking psychotic," Bryce said, trying not to be heard by the Spartan driving.

"Unless you plan on walking away from the tank, he's going to hear you," Bridget said. "Our hearing is far above average."

His blood running cold, Bryce turned to face the Spartan driving. His shoulders shook in a silent chuckle, and he slid his two fingers across his visor, drawing a smiley face where his mouth should be.

"Why is he here?" Bryce asked.

"My name is Theodore," the Spartan said, happiness in his voice. "But you can call me Ted."

"We need every hand we can get," Bridget said. "We can't afford to pass up volunteers."

"We kind of don't have a lot of people," Ted sang. Bridget snapped her head towards him, undoubtedly yelling at him through a private comm line. Ted shrugged, and stretched his arms as if he was yawning under the helmet.

"Heads up! Another scouting party coming in!" Gomer yelled from the turret of the 'Hog.

"Who's up for gettin' killed now?" Ted said to himself. A Ghost drifted across the next corner down the street, spewing super-heated plasma down the avenue. Bryce ducked as the cannon fired, obliterating the vehicle.

"Tank beats Ghost!"

* * *

Cameron poked a fiber optic cable out from the storm drain. Looking around, she saw abandoned Covenant watch towers across the street. Ants ran over her scalp. Her hair would be a mess inside the helmet.

"Looks like they packed up and left," she said. "That means they're low on personal too."

"So our diversion is going better than planned?" Sergeant Willis asked.

"Yes." Cameron wished they weren't drawing too much of the Covenant's wrath.

* * *

Bryce sprayed assault rifle fire across the street. A few Grunts just so happened to have their heads get in the way. Around him, the column had drawn to a stop. More and more Covenant seemed to be pouring out of every destroyed building and burnt out shop.

"Tank beats Brute!" Ted gaily laughed.

"Get some fire on that watch tower," he ordered, pointing down the street. From the top, a fuel rod cannon shot, destroying one Warthog. One marine jumped out in time, one didn't. The wreckage flipped over, pinning the unlucky soldier underneath it. He screamed, then went quiet as he was burned.

The tanks were drawing serious Covenant firepower, but didn't seem any worse for the wear. They had only come across one Wraith and a handful of Banshees. The Spartans dealt with them so quickly they didn't have time to scuff the paint job. But the small arms fire they drew was enough to get the Marines to give them a wide berth.

The turret pivoted, fired, and the tower blew up.

"Haha!"

"He is seriously not right," Bryce said to Bridget.

"Tell me about it."

Gomer tapped on Bryce's shoulders. "Orders, sir?"

The Covenant troops were falling back in an orderly manner. Brutes slowly walked backwards, while Grunts fled, their arms flailing. Ted fired the cannon, taking out scores of them.

"If Brutes are falling back, they have an ambush planned," Bridget said.

"I know, but we need to draw their attention. Push forward, get ready to retreat!"

"Retreat? Hell! We just got here!" Ted quipped.

* * *

"We have a major problem," Willis said, back pressed against the building.

"Hunters. We saw," Cameron said.

"Clever bastards, putting Hunters at the grav lift," Willis grumbled. "Ideas?"

"We take them out."

"Real specific. Any idea how?"

"We'll draw their fire, you hit their backs," Cameron said. "Unless you brought some rockets without us knowing."

"Oh, yea, sure, right next to my anti-sonofabitch machine."

"Then we'll draw their fire." Cameron nodded to her Spartans, and as one, they leapt from the shadows of the building, firing as they went. The token guard of Grunts and Jackals quickly fell, but the bullets harmlessly pinged off the Hunter's armor. They turned around, lumbered, and hefted their fuel rod guns. They lit to a bright neon green, and fired.

The Spartans scattered, dodging the shot, but continued to draw them away from Willis and her men.

"You ready?" She asked.

"Oorah," they mumbled.

"Yea, me too. Well, shit, what are we gonna do?" She said. "On my mark." Sarah peeked her head around the corner. The Hunter's backs were totally exposed to them. "Grenades! Now! Mark!"

She grabbed her grenade and jumped from behind the corner, almost dropping it in her haste and nerves. She fumbled with the pin, and was the last to throw. Four grenades exploded in sequence, breaking the Hunter's backs open and splattering the area with blood. They growled, yelled, and spun around, hefting the fuel rod guns at Willis.

One hunter fell as the Spartans combined their fire on its cracked back. Seeing it's mate fall, the other Hunter roared and charged Willis.

"Oh, come-the-fuck-on."

She tried to jump to the side, and partially succeeded. The Hunter battered her with its shield, turning her jump to a careening blow. She felt her ribs crack as she was thrown like a rag doll.

Sarah tried to climb to her feet, only to see the Hunter bearing down on her.

"Sergeant! Move!" One of her men yelled. Sarah dove forward, in between the Hunter's legs just as it brought its shield down, cracking the pavement.

"Check fire," Cameron ordered.

Willis pulled out her pistol and emptied it in the Hunter's back. It sluggishly turned around, teetered, and fell backwards. The Spartans were at her side before she could drop her gun.

"How bad is it?" Cameron asked.

Willis' hands shook despite herself. She tried to make them stop.

"That bad?"

"I can walk," she blurted out.

"Good," Cameron said. "We still have a cruiser to take down."

* * *

"Really?" Ted said. "My drill sergeant could see this coming in his sleep."

The Covenant had set up an ambush, to no one's surprise. Three Wraiths, Choppers and even four Banshees greeted the assault party. The Spartans wasted no time in targeting them.

"Dibs on the Banshees," Ted said, shooting one down. The other Spartans must have heard him, because they concentrated their fire on the Wraiths.

Bryce ducked, unsure if he saved his life or not. There was so much plasma fire that it looked like a nightclub's laser show. He fired, hoping to hit something.

"Tank beats Banshee!"

One of the Wraith's plasma artillery exploded not ten meters from Bryce, almost causing his skin to blister.

"Tank beats Wraith!"

Bryce wished he would stop it.

"Tank beats _everything!_"

"Sergeant Major, I believe we've drawn enough attention," Bridget said.

"You fucking think?" He shot back. "All units, fall back!"

"Aw."

"That's an order, Theodore," Bridget snapped.

The tank obediently slid into reverse and began backing up. The marines and Spartans took cover behind them as they moved backwards. Brutes jeered, sensing weakness.

"Looks like we're getting a little more attention than we wanted," Ted said.

"Then lay down some covering fire!"

"No need to shout, I've been doing it since we started."

"Christ! Just do it better!"

"Better? That's an unsustainable plan. Sooner or later I won't be able to do perfection any better. What about doing it satisfactory? Would you accept that?"

Bryce couldn't believe it. He would kill this son of a bitch when this was over, he was sure of it.

* * *

Sergeant Willis limped, but did her best to hide it. Cameron frowned. She went from being the best asset to a liability. But she needed Willis as much as Willis needed her and her Spartans. Assaulting a cruiser with four Spartans was tough. If they had the proper armament and intel, it would be a cake walk. But with unknown trooper levels, limited ammo and a small time frame, everyone was needed. The slightest miscalculation…

Cameron stopped herself. That time was past. Now it was time to act. The ants crawled over and under her skin. She forgot to moisturize her skin before suiting up.

"Everyone ready," she said, stepping into the grav beam. The marines were first to be lifted. Willis yelped in surprised, and most likely pain, as she was gently dragged upwards. Soon the beam focused its energy to pick up Cameron and her Spartans like they were playthings.

The beam, however, was not as fast as Cameron hoped. It tugged at them, gently pulling them, and she felt herself wishing the trip to be over faster. They were sitting ducks, easy sniping fodder should a keen-eyed Jackal turn around. A Covenant aboard the cruiser could look down, notice them, and casually turn off the grav beam, sending them plummeting to their deaths. She didn't care what Fred told her about him and his squad surviving orbital re-entry with only his armor; falling the length of a skyscraper was something she never wanted to do.

Frantically, she looked around, trying to find something to help speed their accent up as the ants continued to crawl. Then Cameron noticed how high up they were, and how far they could see. Her worries and the ants ebbed away, and she was calmly floating upwards, seeing the entire city on Chi Rho. Ruined buildings spread out below her, along with destroyed streets and burning wreckage. But it all seemed so far away, so fragile and peaceful. There was no sound, only the gentle humming of the grav beam as it lifted them. She was weightless.

The moment, unfortunately, died as they entered the cruiser. The grav beam brought them into the belly of the beast and held them, inches above the floor, as a floor panel slid closed. Then it gently dropped them down, so softly it might as well have been a whisper. Cameron blinked.

"Status," she said.

"We're golden," her Spartans reported.

"No problems here," the marines said.

"That was nice. Couldn't we do that again?" Willis complained, holding her side.

"Sorry, one way trip," Cameron said, her worrying and ants back in force. "Richard, what's the floor plan?"

"The ship was matched as a medium cruiser, so the passageway to the reactors should be here," the Spartan said, walking over to a door. It sensed him, hummed, and slid open. Cameron snapped her weapon to the ready just as three Engineers floated through the door. They chirped, examining them, then floated on.

"What are those things?" One of the marines asked.

"Engineers. They're harmless," Richard said, holding a hand up to one. One of the many tentacles rose up, examined his hand, and split apart into thousands of tiny cilia, running over Richard's gauntleted hand. Then it broke their slight grasp, and the Engineer left, bored.

"Pretty little things," Willis said. "Now let's get going."

"Sergeant Major, you're in the middle," Cameron ordered. "I'll take point. Richard, cover our rear."

She walked through the door, the Spartans and marines falling into line. Willis limped, slowing them down.

* * *

Covenant concussion rifles boomed, lobbing explosive rounds downhill. Many hit the tank. Bryce had long ago stopped hiding on the side, and instead stalked behind it.

"Christ! Covering fire!"

"Running low on ammo, sir," Ted said.

"We all are," Bridget said, dropping another Jackal.

"Sir, should we break for it?" Gomer asked.

"Negative. We need to save the tanks. We leave them alone, who knows what would happen."

One of the three remaining Warthogs stopped firing, its barrel cherry red and slowly drooping from the heat.

"I'm out!" The marine gunner yelled.

"Don't you just love the shivers that sends up your spine?" Ted asked.

"You! Grab any wounded and make a bee line back to base," Bryce ordered. "Everyone else, continue to fall back." He looked up at the cruiser. "I hope Sarah is doing better than us."

* * *

The assault rifle was hell on her broken ribs. Her vision swum as Willis gunned down another Grunt. Her legs threatened to give way, and she had to fight to see straight.

Someone grabbed her arm, and she was too out of it to jump out of her skin.

"That's enough, Sergeant Major," Cameron said, holding her steady as her Spartans killed the last of the small squad of covenant. "We need you on your feet, not knocking yourself out."

Sarah gasped for breath, trying to talk back. She was slowing them down; she had to do something.

"Ma'am, with all due respect, the Sergeant Major is doing her best," one of her marines said. What was his name? Martin? Willis tried to shake the fog out of her head. "We volunteered; we don't want to be dead weight."

"Understandable." She turned to her Spartans. "Check for transmissions. I want to know if we set off any alarms, and how much time we'll have if we did. Richard, where we at?"

"We're getting to the docking bay," he replied.

"Willis, we'll secure the bay. You and your marines will hold a drop ship for us while we go and set up the nuke. You up to it?"

"Always," she managed to get out. Cameron nodded.

"Stack up," she said, jogging down the hall to the next door. Her Spartans closely followed her while Martin, yes, his name was Martin, gave her a shoulder to lean on. The door hummed open, and Cameron and her Spartans charged in.

Willis heard a squawk of a Jackal before it was killed, then the plodding of inhuman feet. Martin helped her limp out from the doorway. The docking bay was circular, with an open stairway leading to the higher levels. There were a few Jackals and a few more Grunts in the bay, and most of them were dead. Willis was able to steal one kill with her pistol, which made her feel better.

In the middle of the bay was a covenant drop ship. Shaped like a tuning fork, it floated on its anti-grav pods, a large turret hanging from the bottom of the pilot's pod.

"Clear," the Spartans called.

"Good," Cameron said. She jumped up to the pilot's pod and tapped a few holographic symbols.

"I hope you can read that," Willis said.

"We have some good translation programs," Cameron replied. The door to the pod opened, and she leaned in, tapping more symbols. "The drop ship is ready. Sergeant Willis, you'll stay in the pod, where you'll have access to the turret. Discourage the curious."

"Gladly."

"The rest of you, take up defensible positions. We don't know how many covenant will be coming through here."

"Make it quick, will you?" Martin asked as he helped Willis up to the pod.

"We'll triple time it for you," Cameron said. "Spartans, move out."

True to her word, they broke out the door, moving faster than Willis would ever imagine possible.

"Got it, Serge?"

The holographic display was full of queer symbols, but there was a large circular pad on the bottom, just under a screen showing the underside of the drop ship. Willis placed one hand on the pad, and the picture moved. She pressed a center button, and the turret opened fire.

"Idiot proof," she chuckled, sending spasms up her ribs. "Make a system even an idiot could use…"

"…and only an idiot will use it," Martin finished.

"Good thing us dumb grunts are all idiots."

* * *

Now that the marines were no longer part of their squad, Cameron could freely move as fast as she wanted. The ants slowed their crawl, glad to be rid of them. She led her team down the halls, following the nav point that Richard put up. Only a few Grunts stood in their way.

"I don't like this," she said, stepping over a dead Grunt's body. "Too easy."

"There has to be a twist," Richard agreed.

"Does there?" Emily asked, bringing up the rear. "Our diversion may have worked better than we thought."

"A possibility, but I don't want to bank on it," Cameron said. "Everyone, expect to run headlong into a Chieftain."

"Ma'am."

* * *

The Covenant had followed them all the way back to HQ. Bryce was gritting his teeth, wondering if they would follow them all the way to hell if they wanted to.

"Jesus Christ, these guys sure are persistent," Ted said, maneuvering the tank to provide as much cover for the retreating marines and Spartans as he could. "I mean, we can't even put up a proper fight."

"Shut up," Bryce snapped. He had long ago thrown away his assault rifle and pistol. He had to make due with Covenant weapons he picked up going back. He cradled a plasma pistol, trying to get used to the alien grip.

_Sergeant Major Bryce, this is HQ,_ his comm line said, making Bryce jump. _We have a visual on you. You need help with those Covenant?_

"Yes! Give us as much help as you can!" He yelled. The staccato crack of sniper rifles filled the air, taking out some of the higher-ranked Brutes.

"Here we go!" Ted laughed.

"Bryce, gather your men for a full retreat. We'll take care of the Covenant," Bridget said.

"You heard the Spartan! Back to HQ! Double time!" Bryce yelled. His men, having fought the Covenant for hours, didn't need to be told twice. The marines bolted for the base, with Bryce pausing long enough just to make sure that all of his men were retreating. He was thankful they didn't lose many.

A small team of Spartans ran past them, carrying heavy weapons and ammunition to Bridget's squad. Bryce flinched as he heard a rocket turning a soft target into minced meat, and Ted laughing on an open comm channel.

The guard of marines let them in, and Bryce almost collapsed from the feeling of relief. He was alive. He survived.

"Oh my God, oh my God," Gomer gasped, actually collapsing.

"It's alright, marine. We made it," Bryce said, slapping Gomer's back.

"Any fatalities, sir?" Bryce looked up and saw Brown asking him a question.

"We lost a few," he said, clapping her shoulder, more for his support than to give her reassurance.

"But we did it? We beat the Covenant?" She asked.

"We sure as hell got their attention," he said. "The rest is up to Willis and the Spartans."


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

"Stack up," Cameron ordered, slapping a fresh magazine into her DMR. The ants crawled at her. She had thrown away five perfectly good bullets. Richards put a hand on her shoulder, signaling that they were ready. They could have spoken via comms, but the Spartans had grown accustomed to physical actions.

"Go!" She stepped out, triggering the door's opening mechanism. She had taken a knee dead center of the door by the time it started sliding open. Pushing herself to move faster, Cameron scanned the reactor room. There were no Grunts, no Jackals, not even a Brute. The only personal in the room were a small team of Engineers. How disappointing.

"Sweep left," she ordered, sweeping to the right of the room.

"Clear."

"Clear."

"Clear here, too," she said, meeting up with her team on the opposite side of the room.

"Well, this is kinda anti-climactic," Emily snorted. "We really pulled a plush assignment with this one."

"Looks like we did. Now crack out the nuke," Cameron said. She didn't like it. The less force she faced in the cruiser, the more force Bridget and the marines faced on the ground. Did their plan work too perfectly? Did she sacrifice most of her men? The ants scurried along her skin, her heart slammed in her chest and the floor threatened to tilt. Did she lose more of her men?

"Armed," Richard announced, placing the football sized nuke on the floor. "We have fifteen minutes to clear the blast radius."

Cameron had to get out of there. She couldn't risk losing Bridget, or any of her men. They were hers, dammit.

"Back to the drop ship, double time," she ordered.

"Ma'am?" Emily said. Cameron looked up. The Engineers were floating down to the nuke, examining it.

"Kill them. They might deactivate it."

* * *

It was unnerving, only hearing the gentle hum of anti-grav pods. Willis had only fought marginally during the end of the Human-Covenant War, but she was raised on propaganda films and games; that humming always meant incoming troops, it always meant death.

But here, in the drop ship, it meant nothing but frayed nerves. She was expecting Brutes to jump out from around any corner at any time. But there wasn't even so much as a Grunt. The ship was dead empty.

"Anybody got any cards?" She asked from the cockpit.

"Sorry ma'am, didn't think to plan that far ahead," Martin said.

Sarah snorted. Typical. She spun the turret around, trying to find anything to kill, but there was nothing.

"Sergeant Major Willis," her radio crackled, causing her to jump straight up and hit her head. "Prep the drop ship, we are incoming."

"Roger," Willis said. "What happened to radio silence?"

"Just get out of the cockpit. You're not rated to fly."

"Martin, give me a hand," she snapped. Her men jumped to the ready like they were struck by lightning. He ran to the drop ship to help her climb down. Her ribs still ached like there was no tomorrow.

She was barely on the ground when the door to the bay opened and the Spartans ran through. Willis was expecting heavy enemy fire, but there was nothing.

"What's the status?" She asked.

"Nuke is armed and counting," Cameron said. One of her Spartans effortlessly jumped into the cockpit. Willis looked on with envy. "We've got just about ten minutes to get the hell out of Dodge."

The doors to the drop ship dropped down, revealing rows of empty seats at the front of the drop ship. Sarah reached up to grab one and haul herself up when Cameron jumped up, grabbed her hand, and hauled her inside.

"Fuck! Be a little more gentle, will you?"

"Time is of the essence," Cameron said. The other Spartan and her marines jumped in. "Emily, take us out."

"Roger." The doors swung up, locking into place, and Willis felt the ship tilt forward and accelerate. She tried to sit in one of the seats, but it was contoured to fit a different backbone, and only succeeded in aggravating her ribs.

"HQ, this is Sucker Punch," Cameron said on the comm channel. "Punch is thrown, repeat, punch is thrown."

"Roger that Sucker Punch. We'll knuckle down. ETA to fight?"

"Nine minutes and counting."

* * *

The Covenant were finally driven back. The last Brute fell with a heavy grunt, and the Grunts and Jackals were in full retreat. The Spartans cautiously returned to base, along with the tanks.

Bryce walked among his men, telling them it was all over. Doctors were running up and down, treating the wounded.

"We made it," he said, a grin plastered on his face. "We made it."

"Oorah, sir."

"Oorah."

"Covvies get what's comin' to 'em."

Bryce looked up. Bridget was looking out at the city, her helmet subtly moving. She must be talking to someone. Just when she finished, she removed her helmet, moping sweat off her brow.

"Cameron and her commando team are coming back," she said to him.

"And?"

"Mission complete. They set the bomb."

"What about the marines? Is Sergeant Willis okay?"

"Sergeant Willis took a nasty hit," she said. Bryce's stomach twisted. "She's beat up, but fine."

"Fine? Fine as in what? Missing a limb, fine? Got a paper cut, fine?"

"She's broke some ribs fine," Bridget said evenly. "She'll be looked at when she's back."

"Are you sure she's fine?"

"Yes, Sergeant Major, I'm sure she's fine. Cameron would have told me anyways. Don't worry, your partner is fine."

Bryce made himself heave a sigh of relief. It helped him feel better, but he would have to see her for himself.

"The bomb will be going off in less than seven minutes," Bridget said. "Your men might like to watch."

"Ma'am," Bryce snapped a salute. "Alright marines, off your asses. We got a nuke inbound and I don't want to miss the fireworks."

From the horizon, a Covenant drop ship sped towards the base.

"Hold your fire, that's a friendly inbound," one of the Spartans yelled. The marines manning the fence were hefting rocket launchers. "Hold your fire!"

Bryce watched as the drop ship flew in, almost crashing at the rear of the base. Civilians ran, screaming about attacking Covenant. He ran towards it, just as the doors opened and two Spartans jumped out, one carrying Sarah.

"Willis!" He yelled as Sarah got to her feet. "What happened?"

"Got into a slap fight with a Hunter," she chuckled. The civilians were screaming, but were slowly realizing it was not the Covenant.

"She needs a doctor to set her ribs," Cameron said, keeping a hand on her shoulder. "What is the status of the base?"

"Ma'am, we repelled a Covenant counter-attack," Bryce said. "They followed us from the city. Just fought them off."

"Casualties?"

"Didn't Bridget tell you, ma'am?"

"I want to her what the marine casualties were."

"Seven, ma'am. We didn't lose that many."

"Still too much," Cameron muttered. "Get Sergeant Major Willis here to a doctor. I need to check on my men."

"Yes ma'am," Bryce said. The marines who came with Sarah were walking past her, slapping her back and wishing her luck.

"Take that luck and shove it, marine," she said. "I got my gun."

"Always the marine, aren't you?" Bryce asked, giving her a shoulder to lean on.

"The few, the loud, the abrasive," Sarah chuckled, wincing in pain. "Hold on, I want to watch this."

The cruiser sat above the city.

"Any second now…"

There was a flash of light at the center, and the ship began to break apart. The shielding rippled, containing the blast, and finally failed. The explosion ballooned, and the two halves of the ship began falling down to the ground. Sarah laughed. Bryce couldn't help but grin. They hurt them, the bastards.

"That hit the spot," she said. "Now get me a medic. My ribs are killing me."

* * *

"They're not going to like it," Bridget said.

"We don't have a choice," Cameron replied.

"These soldiers have risked their lives. They need more time to unwind."

"If we wait any longer, we'll risk being caught by the UNSC," Cameron said. "Long range Slipspace probes estimate they'll be here in less than fifteen hours. I want to be gone in seven."

"With all due respect, ma'am, that's not giving them enough time," Emily said from across the holotable.

"Hey, they put together a pretty damn nice assault in less than five," Ted pointed out, all grins as normal. The ants crawled. Cameron still didn't like Ted.

"High Command ordered it. Besides, it needs to be done," she said. "We owe it to them. They don't deserve to be killed by the UNSC just for associating with us."

"I still don't like it," Bridget said. Cameron could hear in her voice that she agreed with her, though.

"Just because it's fair doesn't mean it's right," she said. "Let's talk to the marines."

Cameron walked out of the barracks, followed by Bridget, Emily and Ted. Ted walked last, far away from her, just as she wanted. If she tried hard enough, she could ignore his whispers.

The make-shift mess hall was filled with marines. Some of the more seriously injured ones were in hospital beds at the edges of the room. They, too, were eating.

"They're not going to like this," Bridget said.

"So you've told me," Cameron said. She raised her voice. "Marines! I have some news!" The mess hall suddenly got quiet. Cameron lowered her voice. "The UNSC will arrive here in approximately fifteen hours."

Cheers filled the mess hall. Marines banged on tables, hugged each other and pumped their fists.

"Meaning," Cameron yelled, "that you have held off a surprise Covenant assault. Congratulations. Unfortunately, that brings us to the bad news." The room started to quiet. "Because of our status as a rogue op, we will be leaving in seven hours to safely distance ourselves from the UNSC."

"How is that bad?" A marine yelled. A few others laughed, but many glared.

"It is what the UNSC might do to you that is the bad news," Cameron said. "We believe that the UNSC might arrest you, charge you with disobeying orders and allying with a known rogue operation group. They might imprison you, they might sentence you to death just by associating with us." It suddenly got very quiet.

"Then why the fuck did you come here?" The marine yelled, standing up this time.

"We were here to help you fend off the Covenant," Cameron said.

"So we could be killed by humans instead of alien freaks?" The marine demanded. Others around him yelled their encouragement.

"We are here to save your lives, which we have."

"So we can die another day!"

"So you would have preferred to have been killed by a Brute?" She snapped. The marine halted. "So you could have been eaten by a Jackal? So you could have been left to die in some nameless ditch without even as much as a grave? You don't want that. We don't want that. No one wants that. We came here to help, and we are assuming the UNSC will overreact in their treatment of you. They could kill you, they could not. This is the first time that Spartans have assisted UNSC personal. We don't know what the official reaction of the UNSC will be, but we are assuming the worst.

"We are here to make you an offer. One you will not like, but deserve regardless. You may stay here on Chi Rho and await the UNSC, and the possibility of punishment. Or you could come with us."

If the room could go any quieter, it did. Cameron continued.

"We have enough room in our prowler to take an additional twenty people. We will take you back to our base of operations to live and work. You will be fed. You will be clothed. You will be given shelter, and you will be given tasks to perform. It will be a difficult life for you, make no mistake, but you will be welcomed with open arms and treated fairly. There are only two conditions.

"One: You will be expected to live according to our rules and regulations. You will either help to train soldiers, fix or fabricate machinery, perform duties as quartermaster, or assist in medical fields. You will also be required to donate genetic material for the next generation of Spartans.

"Two: You can never return to the UNSC. As long as the UNSC labels us as a rogue op, and actively hunt us, you will be joining us for your natural life. This is a security measure to protect us, I hope you can understand."

No words were spoken. No one moved. The group of marines looked, in many cases, glared at Cameron and her Spartans. She caught Ted giggling to himself, so quiet that even with her augmented hearing she almost missed it. Almost. The ants crawled.

"We plan to leave in seven hours. You have until then to make your choice." Cameron turned on her heel and walked out.

* * *

The camp was certainly quieter after the Spartan's declaration to accept marine volunteers. There was so much frosty silence that even the civilians picked up on it and gave both the Spartans and the marines a wide berth. Bryce sat on one of the remaining benches outlining the destroyed flag grounds. He could never join the Spartans, but if Lieutenant Balakirev was to be believed, and ONI officers generally were to be believed, he would be facing the death sentence upon return to UNSC forces.

"Don't you tell me you're thinking of joining them." Bryce looked up. Willis was limping over to his bench, and sat down with a thump.

"You should be in bed," Bryce said.

"Someone else needed it more than me," she said, stretching her back. "Besides, there's not much they could do for broken ribs, aside from telling me to rub some dirt on it."

"Don't forget the duct tape," Will grinned.

"Yea, can't forget that," Sarah said, grinning back.

The two looked out at the flag ground. At the front of the base, a token guard of marines and Spartans patrolled the fence. The Covenant wouldn't be attacking; there were only small groups of survivors from the fight and the crashed cruiser. They would amount to nothing.

"So are you thinking of going?" Sarah asked him quietly.

"I'll be lying if I said I wasn't," Will replied. "Balakirev says that ONI might put us to death for allying with the Spartans."

"Cameron said that, not Balakirev."

"He did. I visited him, tried to get him out of the brig. He wouldn't."

"What? Why not?"

"He said he was mutinied for doing his duty. Once the UNSC comes, they'll release him, give him a medal, and won't execute him for allying with the Spartans."

"Fucking ONI spooks," Sarah spat.

"Tell me about it. What about you?"

Sarah Willis paused, mulling over what he said.

"Well, if what Balakirev said was true, that puts things in a different light," she said, leaning back as much as she could. Bryce tried not to stare. "I like living, and I hate to be executed just to make a point. But I don't think I could go with the Spartans."

"You don't want to live with their standards?"

"I don't want to put my kids through…whatever hell they do," Sarah said. "When I have kids, I should say. Child soldiers? I don't give a damn how much we need them, I'll die before I let my kids get shipped off to some Spartan boot camp when they're seven goddamn years old."

"I couldn't, either," Will said. "But living…"

"Yea, living is nice."

"So this is where we're stuck, huh?"

Willis was quiet. She just stared at the UNSC flag, fluttering proudly atop the pole.

"Will, if you volunteer to go with the Spartans, I'll kill you before you can go," she said firmly.

"Didn't know you cared," Bryce smiled.

Sarah didn't answer.

"Sergeant Bryce?"

Bryce and Willis turned around. Gomer was walking up to them.

"Um, Sergeant Bryce, can I talk to you?" Gomer asked.

"What is it?"

"Privately…?"

Bryce nodded. "I'll be right back."

He got up and followed Gomer to the flag pole. "What is it, marine?"

"I-I think I'll go with the Spartans."

Bryce knew it was coming, when Gomer asked to talk to him privately, but it still came as a shock.

"Why?" He asked.

"I…I don't want to be executed by the UNSC, sir," Gomer said. "I don't want to die like that."

"So you'll be helping to raise child soldiers?"

"At least I'll be doing something worthwhile. We need the Spartans. You saw how quick the Covenant tore us apart."

"They had the element of surprise on their side," Bryce said.

"Still, you know how easily they beat us during the War," Gomer said. "The Spartans are right, they were the ones who held it all together for us. Fighting the Covenant, discovering Halo and stopping it from being fired three times, fighting the Flood, and what do we do? Sneak around towns at night, drop into battle and barely survive."

Bryce had to admit that Gomer had a point.

"Are you sure you want to do this? You can never go home," he said.

"My parents don't care much for me. I won't miss them."

Gomer looked at Bryce, and he looked back. He could tell he wouldn't convince the marine to change his mind. His eyes were dead set on going.

"Then it has been an honor fighting with you," Bryce said, saluting.

"It was an honor having you as my NCO, sir," Gomer said, returning the salute. He sighed. "I should go pack my stuff."

"Godspeed."

Bryce walked back to Willis, who was still sitting on the bench.

"Well?" She asked.

"He's going with the Spartans."

"Couldn't change his mind?"

"I could see it in his eyes that he wasn't."

"Yea, I figured as much," she said.

"Willis…Sarah…I've been thinking," Will mumbled. "All this fighting, all this trouble we've gotten in, and the Spartan's offer, it's gotten me thinking. About what's going on, and where we're all going in this, I mean, it's big stuff. I've been thinking about this for a while, and…well, I just want this all to stop—"

"Oh, for fuck's sake, if you love me, just say you fucking love me," Sarah snapped.

"Jesus, fine, I love you."

"There. That wasn't so hard, was it?"

"Yes it was."

* * *

There was no honorable salute of the Spartans as they left, but the marines did line up to watch them leave. Willis suspected that it was because of the fourteen marines who agreed to leave.

The Pelican was first loaded with Spartans, leaving Cameron and a few choice others behind as it took off. While it could hold thirty Spartans, it didn't seem like a comfortable fit, and left no room for the marines.

The marines in question stood at the center of the destroyed base, carrying their packs of clothes and merger belongings. Bryce was talking to those that wanted to talk.

"You sure you want to do this, Brown?" He asked the small marine.

"I'm sure," she said. "I just want to help fight. Went out for ODST, but they wouldn't take me because I'm so short. I'm not smart, can't do ONI work or go to officer school. Marines was the only thing left, and they'll take that away from me when the UNSC comes."

Willis turned away. She couldn't take watching the tiny Halo hwoman nervously ramble.

"At least with this, I know I'll be doing some good."

"I understand," Bryce said. Did he really? He gave her a crisp salute, which she returned. Sarah looked up. The Pelican was quickly returning. The Spartans didn't waste any time.

"Sergeant Major Willis." Sarah looked up. Cameron was walking towards her. "Can I ask you a favor?"

"I'm not coming," she said flatly.

"It's not that," Cameron reassured. "I just need you to deliver something." She held out a data pad. "Give this to Director Osman."

"Osman, you mean the head of ONI? What for?"

"It's a message from our leaders," Cameron said.

"I don't think they'll let me walk into ONI headquarters and hand it over."

"You don't have to. Just give it to an officer and tell them it's for her. They should do the rest."

"And read it before she does."

"I'm sure they will try," Cameron said. The Pelican landed and the doors dropped down. "It was an honor to fight with you."

Sarah almost said the same thing. Instead, she checked herself. "Yea, you Spartans are pretty tough. Glad you saved our asses."

The marines walked into the Pelican, followed by the remaining Spartans. The drop ship quickly took off, leaving the marines alone with the civilians. Slowly, awkwardly, the marines left the parade ground. Bryce walked over to her.

"Well, this is it," he said. "Seven hours from now, we'll probably be thrown into a brig."

"Don't remind me," Sarah said.

"You have any regrets?"

"Christ, Will, we're not dead yet," she said, walking to the flag pole. "But I could sure go for some dick right now."

"Did I ever mention how attractive you are when you talk like that?" Sarah couldn't tell if he was sarcastic or not.

* * *

"Get in those tubes, Spartans! Double time!"

The Spartans ran to the underside of the USS Rainbow. Their heavy armored feed pounded on the metal grating. One by one, they jumped into the drop pods and bolted themselves into place. The sergeant was last, ensuring that everyone was set.

"Spartan company Foxtrot, ready to jump," he called over the comm line.

"Roger that, Foxtrot. Jumping in three, two, one, mark."

The ship spat out the pods, and acceleration jerked at them. Stomachs rolled, men and women laughed, and the pods quickly heated up as they entered the atmosphere of Chi Rho.

"Here we go, Spartans!" The sergeant called. "Brace for it!"

The pod's parachutes deployed and the breaking rockets fired, pushing everyone to the floor of the pod. Seconds later, they hit the ground with a thunderous boom. The doors to the pods burst open, and the Spartans charged out towards the marine base.

"Go, go, go!"

There were a crowd of civilians in the rear of the base, just as they were told.

"Move! Squad one, secure the civilians!"

Twenty Spartans broke off to cajole the civilians away from the base. Strangely, there was no hostile fire, only a group of marines standing in the center of the destroyed base. They stood at attention, like it was a dress inspection. Two marines walked forward, hands in the air to show that they were unarmed.

"Sergeant Majors Bryce and Willis reporting," the man said. "We surrender to the UNSC. Our men and I are not armed."

"Where are the rogue Spartans?" The sergeant demanded.

"They left, sir. About seven hours ago."

"Dammit! USS Rainbow, this is Spartan company Foxtrot, the Vs are gone, repeat, the Vs are gone. They've left."

"Sergeant, would you please ensure that this data pad gets delivered to Director Osman?" The woman said, handing him a data pad.

"What is it?"

"Apparently it contains a message from the Spartan high command."

The sergeant handled it like it was a Fabergéegg.

"We have enemy intelligence planet side. We'll send it up ASAP."


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

"Serin,

"Hopefully this gets to you without anyone breaking the AI encryption key. If they have, they won't find much.

"I'll be brief. As I write this, Chief Mendez is dying. He's already suffered multiple organ failures, namely his liver and heart. He's a tough son-of-a-bitch, though. Pulled through each surgery. We try to keep a positive outlook, but he knows better. He's getting closer and closer to death, and he won't let us say it any other way.

"Mendez won't say it, so we will. We want you here for him, or at the least, for his funeral. I know your job as director of ONI is to capture us, but you were, are, a Spartan, regardless if you've washed out. You deserve to be here for when he passes. He was a father to you as much as he was to us.

"As Serin, SPARTAN-019, come visit him. We know you will want to track us, follow us to our base; it is your job, after all. Come anyways. And please, bring Naomi if she is still alive. She deserves this as much as you. If you can, go to Reach and give the all-clear signal on our old training frequency.

"Fred."

Serin re-read the note again. How could Mendez be dying? It made sense for her, as an adult, the Director of ONI, but it didn't, for her as a trainee, sticking it out in boot camp. They were right about one thing, though: nothing could kill the Chief. It had to be a natural death for him.

She looked up. The trial was so boring and one-sided that she didn't even notice that she spaced out for almost an hour. Sergeant Majors Bryce and Williams continued to stand before the panel, although no longer ramrod straight. They were worn out, and Serin didn't see any fight left in them. She didn't see any fight in them from the second they entered the courtroom. Willis seemed more on edge, but both seemed to know what was going to happen. The only one in the courtroom that seemed happy was Lieutenant Balakirev, who had a told-you-so shit-eating grin barely suppressed.

"Do you two have _anything_ to say for yourselves?" Admiral Moore demanded.

"We were just trying to save ourselves and our men," Bryce stubbornly said.

"Which lead to a mutiny of an officer and allying with the rogue Spartan-V program," the Admiral said. Serin didn't need to pay attention to know he was saying it at every possible opportunity. "The end does not justify the means, Bryce."

"I think we've heard enough," Admiral Anderson said. "Are we ready to pass down a verdict?"

"For willingly mutiny a ranking officer and allying with a dangerous rogue operations group, we—"

"Don't kill them," Serin said. She could hear the squeak of chairs as the entire Admiralty Board turned to face her. Because she was seated at the very end of the table, many had to turn very far.

"Excuse us, Director Osman?" Admiral Moore hissed.

"Don't sentence them to death," Serin said. "They don't deserve it."

"I believe you're showing weakness because of your involvement with the SPARTAN-II program."

"Hardly," Serin said. "We need to set a trend, send a message. If we sentence the marines and their NCOs to death, it will say that the UNSC does not, under _any_ circumstances, tolerate cooperation between our forces and the Spartans. Imagine what would happen when the Covenant decide to attack again. Not if, _when_. Our troops would have to fight a war on two fronts: one against the Covenant, the other against the Spartans who would inevitably arrive to help. This would lead to a massive conflict of interest.

"The Covenant already overpower us. The Spartans would easily demolish our troops, leaving us with nothing to fight with. It would become a losing battle that would only cost the lives of the soldiers. This would make them more prone to mutiny, as they would accept the Spartan's help, and will even defection to the Spartan cause, where they are guaranteed safety.

"We don't have the man power to engage in such behaviors. We can't simply 'call in the next wave.' We do not 'have reserves.' We cannot kill our troops to send a message. We need our troops alive and well, ready to fight when the Covenant collapses again."

The Admirals stared at her with hate. The Sergeant Majors stared at her with shock, although both seemed relieved. And Lieutenant Balakirev finally lost his shit-eating grin.

"Is that what you're suggesting?" Admiral Anderson asked.

"That is what I'm _telling_ you, Admiral," Serin said.

The man held her heavy gaze for a split second, then broke away. He remembered what happened to Admirals Gilden and Zenesh, to their careers and their lives.

"Very well," he said. "William Bryce and Sarah Willis will be released from custody, along with the troops that served under them, and dishonorably discharged for conspiring with enemy forces."

Serin didn't wait for anyone to leave. She got up and walked out from the room.

"You're getting soft," Adam said. He was leaning against the wall outside of the courtroom, his ONI dress uniform pressed and creasing in the right areas. "I never thought I'd see the day."

"It's this mood I'm in," Serin said. She kept walking, and her protégé fell in behind her.

"What, you mean that note you got ?" Adam asked. He was an attractive boy, smart as well, but knew how to push her buttons while not sounding like he was trying to antagonize her. She knew she picked the right man to succeed her. "So your drill instructor is dying. So what?"

"You know better than to say that," Serin snapped. She held her tongue for a split second, giving away more than she wanted to. "He was a father to us."

"A father who turned you into soldiers."

"At least I had one."

Adam hissed. "My 'father' was a pedophile."

"Your mother was technically legal at the time."

"So she let a fucking grandfather have his way with her?"

"I never said it would be pleasant, or if she even had a choice in the matter."

Adam simmered in hate. "Alright. I shouldn't have brought that up."

"Good boy. I have a task for you."

"What is it?"

"Find Naomi and have her transferred to my ship as fast as humanly possible. When that is done, I have a test for you."

"And what may that be, pray tell?"

"Run ONI while I'm gone."

* * *

Naomi sat in the co-pilot's seat. Like Serin, she was aging. Unlike Serin, who washed out of the SPARTAN-II program, Naomi was doing it as stubbornly as possible. Her muscles were slowly deteriorating, but were still strong. Her face was growing gaunt, but the skin had yet to turn to flab. Her hair, already a light blond, hid the silver. Serin wondered how much longer she wanted to keep soldiering behind Covenant lines.

Both of them were quiet as they piloted the Pelican through space. But the silence became tense as they watched Reach through the cockpit. The planet was burned from Covenant plasma bombardment, but was far from being glassed like other planets.

"We're rebuilding it," Serin said.

Naomi grunted.

"We'll make it stronger," Serin said.

Naomi grunted.

"We'll never lose it again," Serin said.

Naomi grunted.

Serin sighed. Even she couldn't fool herself.

"Are we being followed?" She asked.

"By five ships we can see," Naomi said.

"And there are seven prowlers here, too," Serin said. "Fred must be very stupid to try to take us."

"It ain't Spartan if it ain't hard."

Serin snorted.

"Ready?" Naomi asked.

"No, but there is no point in waiting."

"We shouldn't be doing this."

"Then why did you volunteer to come?"

"You didn't ask me to volunteer."

"You still came willingly."

Naomi ignored her and turned on the comm line. Serin was sure that every spectrum of wireless communication would be monitored, but she was certain that they wouldn't be able to capture the six-note song. Naomi whistled it into the microphone, then turned off the comm.

"Oly oly oxen free," Serin muttered.

The Pelican drifted through space. There was no response.

"Should I do it again?" Naomi asked.

"No, we don't want anyone else to break the encryption."

"Do they even know which channel to look on?"

"No, and we don't want to give them any more reason to look."

The ship floated, and the minutes dragged by.

"What if he doesn't come?"

"Then why ask us here?"

There was a thump from the rear of the Pelican. Naomi instantly reached for her sidearm. A light blipped, showing a private, tight beam communication line with them. Serin turned it on.

"All out in the free, we're all free," Fred said.

"Good to hear you," Serin said, barely suppressing a smile.

"Same here. Open the door, we're coming in."

Serin keyed the door to open, and the Pelican gave off a decompression warning. Soon Fred was inside and keyed the door close, and the ship re-pressurized. Naomi opened the door to the cargo bay. Inside were three Spartans wearing flat black armor with thrusters. They took off their helmets. Fred had brought Kelly and Linda. They all broke into a rare smile.

"It's good to see you again," Naomi said, barely hiding her glee. "You haven't changed at all."

"Wish it was true," Kelly said. Her hair was going silver. "Your hair turning too? It's hard to tell with blondes."

"Maybe my hair was always silver," Naomi chuckled.

"Yea, right," Linda said. Her hair was still a deep red.

"Enough chit-chat," Fred said good naturedly. "Linda?"

Linda took off a storage pack and opened it. Inside were two black body suits, rated for space wear.

"You clever bastard," Serin said with approval.

"With so many eyes looking at us, we have to blend in," Fred said. "Put them on. We're going EVA."

Suddenly it was old times again. Serin and Naomi quickly stripped down to their skivvies and donned the suits while Fred, Linda and Kelly waited.

"You're getting slow," Fred joked. "Is it the age or the desk job?"

"You're getting cranky," Serin shot back. "Is it the age or the job?"

"Very original."

"Turnabout is fair play."

"At least Naomi still remembers how to put one on."

"Only 'cus I'm the only one in the damn outfit who knows how," Naomi said.

"Good to see peacetime hasn't dulled anyone's edge. Ready?"

"Ready," Naomi said as she attached the helmet.

"Good." Fred walked to the cockpit and tapped orders. "This bird will go full-burn in one minute, broadcasting on a secure line. Think that'll be enough bait?"

"It won't fool anyone," Serin said.

"No, but it will get their attention long enough."

"Clever boy."

"Naomi, strap up with Kelly. Serin, you're with Linda. I'll go first." Fred keyed the door to open. Air exploded, then all went quiet as they were sucked into hard vacuum. Weightlessness threw Serin for a loop, if only for a second. Then her training kicked in and her inner ear stopped bothering her.

The Pelican's engines burst to life, and the ship shot away as Fred led them in the opposite direction.

Fred, Linda and Kelly primed their thruster packs, and they flew away. Serin looked up to see all of the ships moving to follow the Pelican. She even caught oily black-on-black movement, the sign of a prowler. Below them was Reach, no longer looking ruined, but defiant. She was young again, with her squad, her teammates, her family.

Even though Fred was barely a meter ahead of them, he was invisible. Only the thrusters emitted any light, and after three seconds, they went dark. Black on black, the Spartans sailed through space.

_Looks like they realized it was a ruse,_ Naomi said on their private tight beam channel.

Serin looked behind her. The ships were slowing, turning away from the Pelican. Only one, a frigate, stayed on course to intercept the drop ship.

_We're one minute out, _Fred said. _Get ready for counter burn._

Fred, Kelly and Linda pulled something out from their armor's pouches. Serin looked up; they each held a small flashlight. They blinked them three times. Ahead of her, a tiny dot of light winked back.

_That's our spot, Spartans. Better not miss, we only got one shot._

Linda keyed her thrusters, spinning them in an 'upright' position, like they were walking to the spot. A few stars went dark, and Serin recognized the rough outline of a prowler. Suddenly, a door opened, and a light cut through the vacuum. There was a Spartan standing in the airlock, beckoning them forwards.

Thrusters cut their speed, and they gently entered the ship. Once Linda was in, the doors closed behind them, and the airlock began to cycle.

"Naomi, Serin, welcome aboard," Fred said. The door to the ship opened, and more Spartans walked in, each wearing Mjolnir armor and carrying a handheld scanning device.

"What's this?" Naomi asked.

"For our safety, please understand," Fred said.

"We have to scan you for bugs," Kelly added. The Spartans waved the handhelds over Serin and Naomi. They beeped and chirped.

"You'll have to take off the suit, ma'am," one said respectfully.

"Spartan-V?" Serin asked, unzipping the suit.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Do I have the right to assume you've begun the Spartan-VI program?"

"They're almost a year from training, but yes." The V picked three transmitters from Serin's underwear. "Looks like you have a few dermal implants and an eye cam."

"Drat. Hoped you would miss those," Serin said.

"You don't have a pacemaker, do you?" Linda asked.

"How old do you think I am?"

"Had to ask," she said. "EMP, ready."

One of the Spartan-Vs keyed their device, and the lights flicked off, but quickly came back on.

"They're clean."

"Good to see that paranoia is working out for you," Naomi said.

"Measure twice," Linda said.

"Cut once." Naomi chuckled. "Good old Mendez. How is he?"

There was a slight pause.

"Was it painful?" Naomi asked evenly.

"No, he went in his sleep."

"I guess that's more than any of us deserve."

* * *

The ants crawled, tickling her scalp. Cameron hissed, running the brush through her hair again. Dammit, she was going to be late. The brush passed through again, and she felt calmer, refreshed. There, her hair was perfect. She put a dab of lotion on her hands and gently rubbed it into her face. She inspected her uniform. Not a crease was out of line. The ants stopped, and she was happy.

She turned, to see Bridget standing at the door of the bathroom, watching her.

"How long?" Cameron asked.

"Twenty minutes," Bridget replied. "I only watched the last seven."

Cameron groaned. This was crazy.

"Don't worry, we still have plenty of time," Bridget said.

"How are Roc and Alice?"

"By your standards or mine?"

Cameron sighed as the ants started crawling again. "You two ready to go?" She called as she stepped out of the bathroom.

"Yes, mom." Roc said. He and Alice stood by the door, wearing their best uniforms. The creases were all wrong. Cameron knelt to straighten them out. Roc and Alice sighed, knowing what was coming. Cameron kept it short.

She straightened Roc's tie and ran a hand over his black hair. Alice's tie was straight, but her shirt collar was off by a tiny bit. She straightened it and tugged at the bottom of the uniform, pulling the last bit of rough creases out of it.

"There," she said, standing up and tugging at her own uniform.

"Are we ready?" Alice asked quietly.

"Of course we are," Bridget said. "Let's go."

Cameron was the last one out, so she closed and locked the door. They left the apartment complex with the other families, and stepped outside to the corner. The sun was setting, giving them seven hours of remaining daylight. There was hardly any talking among the Spartans, but the children chattered away. Cameron held Bridget's hand.

Soon the shuttle bus came. Like everyone else, the driver wore his dress uniform. Everyone calmly, evenly, got on board. Cameron opted to stand, lest the crease her uniform. The bus slowly pulled away from the corner. Cameron watched the apartment buildings pass by, each one the size of a block, about fifty meters across, and four stories high. The grass was growing green, taking very well to the alien soil. The trees, on the other hand, were little more than saplings, taking longer to acclimate.

The bus pulled up the base, letting the Spartans off. They passed through the entrance, where the guards stood in their armor. The children stared in fascination, envy, or impatience. Those would be theirs, someday. Inside the base, the square military organization of space continued, block by block. There were already one-fourth of the Spartan family standing at the parade ground, where the memorial would take place.

* * *

"You've picked out a nice place for yourselves," Serin said as she and Naomi were lead to the parade ground.

"It took us a while to find," Kelly said.

"Wonder what kind of sun you orbit."

"Sorry, classified."

"I guess we should be glad to just be here," Serin said. "Now, what would you call this place…?"

"You get three guesses and the first two don't count," Linda said.

"So you did name it Sparta."

"It made sense," Linda said. "It was the home of the original Spartans. Besides, we weren't trained for name creativity."

Serin and Naomi laughed. Fred led them out to the ground. A small, token team of security followed them. At the entrance to the base was a statue of John.

The statue stood four meters tall, carved from what seemed like granite. He wore his armor, carried his helmet under one arm, and his assault rifle from the other. It was lovingly rendered. Serin could see the definition work that had gone into his face; it was just as she remembered it.

The plaque was simple. "John-117. Master Chief Petty Officer. Born 2511. MIA."

"It's funny that he's the only Spartan truly missing in action," Serin mused.

"There's still Gray Team," Kelly said.

"And how long have they been missing? They've been gone so long they might as well have died of old age." Serin asked. She looked back to the statue. "But to think that he would outlive all of us. That's something."

"He very well just might," Kelly said. "We think he's in cryo-sleep somewhere. It could be decades before he wakes."

"Most likely centuries."

A small group of children were waiting for them by John's statue. All wore small dress uniforms.

"Mom, dad," the tallest boy said, "is this Serin and Naomi?"

"Yes it is," Fred said, kneeling down to the boy. "Serin, Naomi, this our family. John, Samuel, Kara, Elizabeth and Benjamin." Fred gestured to each child, from left to right.

"You are their father?" Naomi asked.

"Chances are I'm genetically not the father, but yes," Fred said, standing up.

"It's an honor to meet you," the child, John, said. He saluted to Naomi, and offered a handshake to Serin.

"John?" She asked Fred as she shook the child's hand.

"It's one of the most popular names in human history," he said.

"Of course it is."

"Please, if we wanted to name our children after the Master Chief, we would have named them all John," Kelly said.

"Never suspected you would end up with Kelly," Naomi chuckled.

"You've been living with the regulars too long," Linda said. "All three of us raised these children."

"Ah, it takes a village to raise a child," Serin mused.

"That was the idea."

"General Fredrick? It's almost time, sir," one Spartan said to Fred.

"So this is how a demigod is born," Serin said.

"Don't say that, it makes him angry," one of the girls, Kara, said.

"I was voted into my position of power, _against_ my wishes," Fred said testily. "As opposed to you, who was _appointed_ to it."

"Fair enough," Serin said, giving up.

"Show them to their seats. I'll get ready for the speech."

Kelly, Linda and the small guard showed them to their seats. Kelly and Linda's children followed them in a neat, orderly line. Ahead of John's statue, Serin saw two new ones. The one on the left was of Dr. Halsey. Serin's skin crawled minutely. She was standing tall, a book open in one hand, the other selecting a line from it.

The plaque read, "Dr. Catherine Elizabeth Halsey. Civilian. Born March 19, 2492. MIA. Founder of the SPARTAN-II program."

Serin knew exactly where Dr. Halsey was, and when she had died. Her fists curled into balls, thinking that the doctor still got a statue, after everything she had done to them. She quickly looked away.

The statue next to her, not ten meters away, was a statue of Mendez. He was wearing his marine drill instructor uniform, leaning over and in the middle of yelling. For a brief second, Serin thought he was chewing her out. The detail of his face was amazing. Mendez was sticking his right arm out, pointing at the poor trainee who had messed up. He pointed with his index finger; his others were wrapped around a Sweet Williams cigar.

His plaque red, "Senior Chief Petty Officer Franklin Mendez. Born February 17, 2485. Died September 3, 2566. ORION super soldier. Trainer of SPARTANS."

"They did a good job," Naomi smiled.

"Our holy mother and father, and their favorite son," Serin muttered. "I'm glad we're not religious by nature."

"There will always be heroes," Linda said. "And we'll always worship those heroes."

* * *

"Spartans, atten-hut!"

As one, the crowd of Spartans snapped to attention. The ceremony was beginning.

"At ease," the Emcee said. Cameron folded her arms behind her back, the ants tingling as she could feel the material creasing. She took a small piece of solace knowing that she was standing at a perfect 'at ease.' It calmed the ants. Standing in front of the podium were Serin and Naomi, the two last remaining SPARTAN-IIs. They were flanked by a token security squad.

Fred walked to the podium. He took his place behind it, and stared out at the crowd, as if lost in thought.

"Chief Mendez," he began, "was a great man. He was one of the few surviving ORION super soldiers, the precursor to the SPARTAN-II program. It is the reason we are called the II program; to honor the men and women who lost their lives in ORION. But he was more than that.

"He was a trainer to all of us. For the II program, the III program, and to the V program. He was a leader, a father, a grandfather, to all of us. He was more than one of us, he was the one who trained us, taught us how to fight with our bodies and minds. He made us who we are, and he will be missed.

"And so, we are here to celebrate the life of a man who formed the backbone of the Spartan program. We are here to celebrate our father, to give him the peace he deserves. We are here to honor his life, and to dedicate this eternal flame for him."

Fredrick nodded, and a bugler stepped forward.

"Spartans, attention!"

As one, every Spartan snapped a crisp salute. Their children followed suit. The guard gave Mendez his twenty-one gun salute. No one jumped, not even Alice. As the last shot faded, the bugler began playing "Taps." Cameron felt the urge to cry as Fred bent down to place Mendez's urn in the ground in front of his statue, and to light his eternal flame. The song stopped, and Fredrick gave his final salute.

"Dismissed."

* * *

Serin wanted to make a crack at the briefness of the eulogy, the Spartan laconic phrase being alive and well, but she couldn't bring herself to say anything. They had just put Mendez into the ground, or rather, his remains in the ground. She might be bitter towards the program, hated it even, but he was still her father, the only father she really knew of. And they had just put him, his remains, into the ground.

_We were right about one thing, nothing could kill the Chief, she thought,_ drying her eyes. Dammit, she didn't want to cry.

"Well done," she said to Fred as he walked off the platform.

"I couldn't think of anything to say," he grumbled. "All damn night, I just kept trying to think of the right thing to say, but I couldn't do it. Had to pass that off as the right thing to say."

"It was nice," Kelly said. "Perfect, even."

"He deserved someone better to talk at his funeral."

"John isn't coming back any time soon," Linda said. "We'll have to make due with you."

"It's mess time," John, their child, said. "Can we show Serin where the mess hall is?"

"That'd be a good idea," Fred said. "This way."

Serin and Naomi walked with Fred, Kelly, Linda, their children and their guards through the compound. Serin looked over at Naomi. She hadn't said anything since the ceremony started, she only cried in silence. Serin nudged her.

"You alright?" She asked

Naomi thought for a second.

"No, not really," she said. "I never thought I'd see Mendez buy the farm."

"I know what you mean," Serin said. They lapsed into silence as they walked. The compound was large, and spread out. Being the only ones on the planet, they were able to build how they felt fit, and it was all very efficient. Serin expected nothing less from Spartans, but it had a surprising air of elegance. It was a very Twenty-First Century Green style of architecture.

"I'm surprised that the buildings aren't completely geared for efficiency," Serin said.

"Efficiency was a large focus, but we also needed livability to be part of the equation," Linda said. "They're not only power and heat efficient, but they also have atriums and sky lights for natural lighting."

"You know a lot about the buildings."

"I helped to design and build a few of them." Linda pointed to one. "That's the mess hall up there. I helped with the hallways and entrance foyer."

The entrance to the mess hall was a large, two story glass paneled room. Other Spartans were walking in with their families, and a muted chatter echoed off the ceiling.

"Pretty."

"Thank you. It's also bullet-resistant, so it can be used for cover in a firefight."

"Why does that not surprise me?"

They walked into the mess hall itself, and for a moment, Serin thought they really were back on Reach, in a UNSC mess hall. She even though she saw a few marines sitting at the tables.

The line for food stretched across the wall, and they patiently took their place in line. The queue moved fast, and they soon had a tray full of food and a bottle of water, and sat down at an empty table.

"How do you grow your food?" Naomi asked.

"We have Joton crop machines that helped us get started," Kelly said. "We have over a hundred acres of farmland, and the animals we have are growing larger and larger."

"What kind of animals? Cows, pigs, what?"

"Cows, pigs, and also sheep."

"How on earth did you get all that on planet?"

"They made some small purchases on ONI's dime," Serin said. "Also, quiet a lot of specialized manufacturing machines. What are you capable of making?"

"Pretty much everything," Fred said. Serin picked up on the defensive tone easily. "We have our ways."

"You're probably mining a few asteroids."

Fred paused for a second, then said, "yes."

Kelly gave him a look.

"If I didn't say anything, she'd still know," Fred said. "Might as well fess up to it."

"ONI teaches you a lot of things," Serin said. "Don't feel bad."

"Good food," Naomi said, spooning up some mashed potatoes.

"Better than the Navy slop they fed us," Kelly said. "We actually have real butter."

"Get out."

"Good food, good performances. It makes sense."

"Next thing you know, you'll be having Spartans giving out spa advice."

"That's in the works," Kelly laughed. Serin found herself laughing as well. It felt good, right even, to be back with her old squad mates. Naomi seemed to be enjoying it as well. Serin looked over at the children. They had their own section of the table, and were chattering away as children were known to do. The guards were even having their own muted conversations. Everyone was talking, but only the children were really socializing. Still, it all didn't seem real, Mendez being put to rest.

With their meal done, they dropped their trays off to be washed, the children running to dump their trays off first.

"They're competitive," Naomi said.

"They get it from their parents, I bet," Serin said.

"Their parents the village, remember," Linda said.

"Mom, mom, dad, can we run back home?" Kara asked.

"Yes, you can change out of your dress uniforms," Kelly said. The children bolted, running back to their house.

Outside, the sun was starting to set. Serin tried to figure out how much time passed between making planet fall and the sun setting; they might be able to clock the day/night cycle, which could help them identify the planet they were hiding on. But Serin didn't know how much time passes; there wasn't so much as a clock on a wall, everyone wore watches, and she arrived sometime in the early afternoon, and was kept indoors much of the time.

"Almost time for us to go?" Serin said.

"You can spend the night, but you'll be woken up sometime before sunrise and taken off-planet," Fred said.

"Still being secretive, aren't you?" Serin said.

"You're still trying to figure out where we are," Fred said. "We're taking enough of a risk letting you here, but it had to be done, for Mendez."

"Thank you," Serin said.

"It was what you deserved."

"I want to stay," Naomi said.

"What?" Serin stared at her.

"I want to stay," Naomi said. "It feels like I'm home here, some place I haven't been in such a long time."

"You're welcome to stay," Fred said, "but this won't be like any UNSC base you've ever been to. We're all pulling double shifts, both military and civilian rolls, to keep this place running."

"I've been in worse places."

"You'll also be expected to contribute genetic material for the next generation of Spartans, and bear children," Kelly said.

"We all have to take it up the ass somehow, I guess," Naomi smirked.

"You've been hanging around marines too long," Kelly laughed.

"You'll be leaving Kilo Company behind," Serin said. "They're your family as much as they are."

Naomi paused.

"No, not really," she said. "Phillips, Devereaux, Vas and Mal, yes, but now the teams change every year or so. I'm the only original Kilo Five member. And I'm more of the old man of the group than anything else. Not to mention the only Spartan they've only seen."

"I take it I can't convince you?"

"Yes."

"Then I'll save my breath," Serin said. "It won't make it easier for me, though."

"I'm sorry for that, I really am, but I don't want to leave. I finally feel good here."

Serin looked at Naomi. She could tell there wouldn't be any persuading her.

"Fine," she said. "I'll have to make a report that you abandoned your post and defected to the enemy, but I'll file it."

"Thank you, Serin. You've been a good friend." Naomi offered her a firm handshake. Serin didn't expect it.

"Don't worry, you won't be the only new addition to our base," Linda said. "We have the marines that 'defected' as well." Serin looked to where Linda was pointing, and to her surprise, there were six marines that she had seen eating in the mess hall.

"Would you mind if I talked to them?" She asked.

"Go ahead," Fred said. He nodded to a guard, and he followed her to the group.

"Excuse me, but you're marines, right?" Serin asked.

"I thought everyone knew us here," one marine said.

"Director Serin Osman, ONI."

"Oh shit, uh, wow, Director Osman, honor to meet you," the smallest marine said. Serin remembered that her last name was Brown. They all hastily saluted.

"At ease, this isn't an inspection," Serin said. "I'm interested in your condition."

"We're fine, ma'am," another marine said. Serin tried to remember his name from the report. Was it Gomer? "It isn't so bad here. But, if you excuse me for asking, what are you doing here? I thought you were trying to find the Spartans and shut them down."

"I am," Serin said. "I'm here as a courtesy to Mendez."

"He was your trainer?" The smallest marine said.

"Yes, he was. I owe him enough to come."

"So you're trying to find out where you are, so you could force the Spartans to surrender," the tall marine said.

"What's your name?"

"Gomer, ma'am."

"Ah, Alex Gomer. I remember reading your file," Serin smiled. "You're right, I'm still trying to find out where we are. Would you know?"

"With all due respect, ma'am, we're not allowed to say," the small marine said.

"You're Valarie Brown, aren't you?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"You really would follow that order?" Serin asked. "You'd really keep quiet?"

"Yes, ma'am, I would," Brown said, looking square into Serin's eyes, and Serin was quite taller than her. "They've taken us in, gave us a bed, fed us, and gave us good work to do. Like you, I owe it to them."

"And the rest of you?" Serin asked. "You'd keep quiet, too?"

"We would," Gomer said. "It isn't much, but it's nice here."

"It's better than your life in the UNSC?"

"I miss some things, sure, but I like it better," Gomer said. A few other marines traded uneasy looks, but kept quiet.

"Well, I'm glad that you're enjoying your decisions," Serin said, changing tactics. "Does it matter that I haven't given the death penalty to those marines who stayed?"

The marines that wavered with Gomer's statement wavered even more. A few even looked down and away from Serin.

"You did?" Brown asked. "That's good. Bryce and Williams didn't deserve that."

"No one did," Gomer said.

"So what do they have you doing here?" Serin asked.

"They're having us work construction," Brown said. She stood a little taller and beamed as she talked. "The barracks? I helped build it. Turns out I got a knack for metalwork."

"They've got the rest of us farming," Gomer said.

"Farming?" Serin chuckled.

"That's what I said the first time," Gomer said. "Sure, it's hard work, but I kind of like it. I'm feeding over four hundred people, and we're still putting more food into storage than we're using."

"Don't forget the animals," another marine said.

"Yea, we're working on growing our animals, too," Gomer said. "We've already raised a few generations of sheep, hogs and cattle."

"A regular frontier colony, isn't it?" Serin chuckled.

"We're doing good work, for a good cause," Brown said.

"And what of your children?" Serin asked. "What will you do when you're required to have children?"

The marines paused, even the gung-ho Brown.

"We're gonna have to do what they ask," she said. Only a few marines nodded. Even Gomer was quiet. "It's part of the deal, right? We work for our room and board, and having kids is part of that work."

"And what will happen when you refuse to cooperate?"

"They said they'll throw us in the brig," Gomer said. "Give us hard labor until we agree."

"Ooh, sounds rough," Serin said, flinching for effect. "How does that make you feel?"

"Bad," one marine said. No one stopped him.

"And you'll still do it?"

"It ain't like we have a choice," Brown mumbled. "We still gotta work for that room and board."

"And how would you raise your children?"

"I'll do the best damn job I can do," Brown said, returning to look Serin in the eyes. "I'll give my kid everything they need."

"Even if they're not your biological child?" Serin said. "It appears that you don't raise the children you have a genetic connection with."

"We're put in a lottery," Gomer said. "But we'll all raise those children together. It's the only thing we can do."

"And when they come of age for training?"

The marines went quiet again.

"Thank you for your time," Serin said. "It's been great talking to you, and I hope you have a great life here." She leaned close to them and whispered, "if you want to leave, get me out of my room at night."

She turned and walked back to Fred and the other Spartans, her guard following her.

"Making life hard for the marines?" Fred asked.

"Just asking a few questions." She looked him in the eyes, and watched his reaction. Fred didn't so much as twitch as he looked back at her.

Serin hoped he didn't hear her, but being a Spartan, his hearing was augmented. While it was possible that he could hear her whisper to the marines, whether he did or did not was something she couldn't gauge. For all she knew, he could have heard her, but was unable to discern what she said. Serin hoped the marines heard her well enough. She turned around as they walked back; the marines were talking to themselves, and judging from the hand motions, it was a heated debate. Serin hoped some of them would try to escape with her.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Serin had to admit, the room she was in was pretty nice, as far as military rooms went. It was easily four meters long and six wide, had hardwood floor and a nice, if not a little large, desk. The bed was also comfortable, made of memory foam. It even had a window, but it was blocked up to confuse her of what time it was outside. Likewise, there was no clock anywhere. The overhead light was bright, meaning it emitted organic UV light.

All in all, not a bad prison room.

She laid on the bed, trying to find a better way to pass the time. Kelly had given her a tablet computer with numerous books on it, but Serin was far more worried about the marines she talked to. If she knew marines, and she was a pretty good expert on them, they would keep her offer to themselves, not the Spartans, and would come for her, even if it was only one. Serin had to guess as to how many would come; Brown seemed greatly resistant to her, praising the Spartans, as did Gomer, but even they paled a little when she mentioned using their children. It was too much guesswork, and she didn't like guesswork.

She tried to think of a way to the spaceport, but she didn't know where the spaceport was. There was no air traffic during the ceremony, so she couldn't trace their flight paths. Knowing how the military operated, she guessed the spaceport had to be at least one kilometer away.

Serin wished the Spartans hadn't fried every gadget she had with an EMP. She had a tiny, dumb AI stuck in a pen tip, and loaded with position gathering programs, which would be a godsend for finding a way out of the base. But that was fried as well, so she had to guess once again. Fred had done his job well, there was no denying it.

There was a knock at her door, and Serin bolted upright. It opened, and a marine poked his head in.

"Director Osman?" He said. "Anthony Gados. We're here to make a run for it."

Serin was on her feet and out the door before he finished talking. Outside, there were five more marines. Brown and Gomer were nowhere to be seen.

"Six of you?" She said. "Better than what I was expecting. Where is the spaceport?"

"One and a half clicks north of here."

"Show me how to get out of this building," she said. The marines started walking, fast. "How many people were watching me?"

"Only a few," Anthony said. "We asked Tim to stay behind, to distract them."

"So we'll probably have a minute or two before they realize I'm missing," Serin said. "Move faster, we have to find a vehicle."

They soon came upon a set of double doors. Like the mess hall, it was more glass than actual door, and Serin got to see the night sky for the first time. She burst out, and was a little surprised to see two moons, one larger than the other.

"Do you know where we are?" She asked.

"We're at the administrator's building…"

"No, I mean planet, the system."

"They didn't tell us," Anthony said. "We only know the planet's name."

"Sparta, I know," she said. "Do they still consider you a security risk?"

"I guess so. They never told us when we got here, saying that they'll tell us when you left."

"They knew I was coming?" There was a line of Warthogs parked out front. Serin sat in the passenger's seat. "You drive, I can't be seen."

"Sure thing, ma'am," Anthony said. He jumped in to drive. The other marines got into other available Warthogs. "Yea, they knew you were coming. They said they left a message with Bryce and Williams, telling you to come. Once you left, they would tell us everything we wanted to know."

"Clever. They didn't want me to risk getting information from you."

"With all due respect, ma'am, what's the plan?" Anthony asked, pulling the Warthog out of the parking lot.

"I hope you know that I can't get you back to the UNSC," Serin said. "Not without stealing a Slipspace-capable starship, and those have to be locked up tight."

"Yea, they are," Anthony said, disappointment in his voice.

"What I can do, however, is get the location of the base from the flight computers," Serin said. "Then I can come back for you when they let me go."

"Will they let you go?" Anthony asked. "Once you see the data?"

"I'm not sure, but I have to try," Serin said. From behind them, an alarm went off, a deep, strobing warble. "Well, that was about as long as I expected it to be."

"It was hardly two minutes!" Anthony said.

"We are trying to run from Spartans," Serin said. Anthony drove faster. Serin could see the lights from a spaceport just ahead.

"Just drive through the gates, they'll know we're coming," she said. Anthony gritted his teeth and sped up. Three MPs stood in front of the guardhouse. They were not wearing Mjolnir armor, but Serin saw them raise their weapons. "Down!"

The glass of the Warthog flexed as it was shot. Anthony kept his foot on the pedal and drove through the gate. There was a massive thump as the metal gate bent and broke; the Warthog slowed suddenly, and Serin was thrown against the dashboard.

"I'd stop if I were you," a voice giggled. Serin looked up. A Spartan had jumped onto the side of the Warthog, and he had a pistol aimed at Anthony.

"Aw, shit, Ted," he whimpered.

"Yep, it's your bad day," the Spartan said, grinning widely. Serin heard him giggle to himself, quietly, just under his breath.

Anthony stopped the Warthog. They were ten meters from a Pelican.

"Would you kindly get out of the Warthog?" The Spartan Ted said cheerfully. Anthony jumped out like the Warthog would explode. Serin raised her hands, stepping out. The other MPs were on them, getting the rest of the marines out of the Warthogs.

"We're under orders," Ted said, "that if you were to make as escape attempt…"

"You'd shoot us?" Serin said.

"Don't tempt me," Ted laughed. The other MPs gave him a look, but held their peace. "We're ordered to led you leave, ship you back to the UNSC."

"Really."

"Really," Ted said. "With a pilot flying for you, and a bag over your head. Oh, and they never said how comfortable you'd be."

"Really."

"Do you _want_ to call my bluff?" Ted asked, eyes widening and grin stretching. It made Serin's skin crawl.

"I have a hard time believing that Fred would let me be treated in such a way," she said.

"Can I? Can I? Can I?" Ted asked another Spartan. She had an immaculately pressed uniform, perfect hair and an amazingly clean DMR.

"Director Osman, you have had your chance," she said. "Sure, Ted."

Serin was suddenly spun around and thrown against the hood of the Warthog. She felt her wrists be tied together with a zip tie, and a bag was thrown over her head.

"Just remember it was your choice," Ted said, his voice suddenly breathing in her ear. Serin actually jumped.

"W-what about the marines?" She asked.

"They'll be court martialed," the Spartan in charge said. "Most likely given a week of hard labor."

"And you?"

"We'll continue to do our job. Protecting humanity and the UNSC." Somehow, it made Serin feel better as she was thrown into the cargo hold of the Pelican like a sack of potatoes.

* * *

"Is there anything that you can tell us about the Spartan base? Anything?" Admiral Hood asked, the chamber filled with other high ranking desk officials.

"The planet orbits one sun, which appears to be a yellow giant, and has Earth-like gravity, and had two moons," Serin said.

"Anything _useful?_"

"Nothing," she said. "They were quite thorough in making sure there was no way I could identify their planet. As I said in my report, they used an EMP generator to short out the tracking devices, both sewn into my clothes and implanted in my body. They kept us in windowless rooms, not only in their ship, but also on planet, until the ceremony started. And when they took me off-planet, they covered my head."

"So there is no way to know where the Spartans are."

"That is correct."

"Are you sure that you tried very hard to find their base?"

"I did everything in my power," Serin replied, keeping her voice even. "A group of marines tried to help me break out. However, given my lack of power in the situation, it did not amount to much."

"What else could you tell us about the base?"

"They had set up permanent facilities, and have created the next generation of Spartans. They said they were a year or so away from training. The marines they rescued were in good spirits; they were treated well, and did not show much regret knowing that they would have been spared the death penalty if they stayed with the UNSC. Those were the ones who did not help me attempt to escape."

"So we know nothing about them," Admiral Hood said.

"Aside from what we could already guess or otherwise infer."

"And we even lost another Spartan. Did you try to convince her that she shouldn't defect?"

"There was nothing I could do to convince Naomi not to defect. Nor could I restrain her, as I was not only outnumbered, but also lacked the physical training as her."

"You were a Spartan, too. You should have found a way to stop her."

"A Spartan that washed out of training," Serin said, the bitterness creeping into her voice despite her best efforts. "If it wasn't for the rehabilitative procedures given me by former Director Parangosky, I would have warped bones, be unable to stand, and not even capable of speech. Against a Spartan in her prime, I couldn't hope to restrain her."

The fellow Admirals simmered, whispering amongst themselves. Admiral Hood himself didn't say anything.

"Is there anything else?" Serin asked. "If there isn't, I have work to do."

"We've heard everything we can get from you," Hood said. "This meeting is adjourned. Thank you, Director Osman."

Serin turned on her heel and left the chamber.

"So, how was it?" Adam, her protégé, asked.

"Bitter sweet," Serin said. "It didn't seem right that Mendez died, like it was another trick during training."

"Sounds like he did a number on you."

"He made us soldiers. Take that how you will."

Adam shrugged.

"And being kicked off the planet?"

"A surprising amount of fun. You should definitely try it sometime."

"I think I'll pass."

"I don't blame you. How did you hold down the fort while I was gone?"

"I'm not sure how you do it," he said. "I'm glad you're back in the chair."

"Sounds like I've been going too soft on you," Serin said. "I'll have to work harder if I want you to take over for me."

"I used to want that, but now I'm not too sure."

"We're both still young. There's time for you to learn."

"Young?" Adam said. Serin knew he was prodding her.

"Compared to Parangosky, we're barely teenagers," she said.

"I guess you got a fair point."

"Come now, let's see how you did," Serin said, walking back to her office. "And worry about the next Covenant attack."

* * *

Cameron hated the cramped quarters of the prowler. There were so many things in the ship, it got the ants crawling just looking at the stacked ammo crates, armor pieces and various supplies. But what made it worse was that it was stacked neat, but never neat enough. The ants never stopped crawling over her skin, begging her to make it right. It drove her crazy. She couldn't walk through the crowded ship, but staying in her cramped quarters was equally worse.

There was a knock on her door.

"Come in," she said, looking up from her book. Bridget opened the door and walked in.

"How long have you been in here?" She asked.

"Fifteen hours, three minutes," Cameron said. She had long since taken the clock down, but still picked it up and looked at it every five minutes.

"It isn't good for you to stay in here."

"I know, but at least I feel better in here," Cameron said. "Everything is neat, the way I like it."

"Can I sit down?" Bridget asked. Cameron smiled. She knew that the slightest nudge would send something off-kilter, and the ants would start crawling again. She had the greatest partner.

"Yes, pull up a chair." Bridget sat down.

"Have you gotten out at all? I only see you at mess and PT."

"That's only when I get out," Cameron said. "I try walking the ship, but everything is just…"

"I know."

"How are we out there?"

"Everyone is doing good. They complain because of the cramped ship, but it's just typical bitching, no heart put into it."

"Good. And the planet, Circumstance?"

"The rebuilding is going as they planned. Not so much as a twitch from them."

"Keep on monitoring them. We only have two weeks left in our deployment."

"It helps if you didn't count the days."

"Hard to do when I'm counting the hours."

Bridget nodded. She knew how Cameron got during deployments, when she wasn't able to keep everything to her standard of clean.

"Want to go EVA?" She said. "That always helps you calm down."

Cameron smiled.

"That sounds like the perfect thing right now," she said. "Let's get out for some fresh air."

Bridget chuckled. She heard the joke a countless number of times, but always laughed at it. Cameron put her book away and left with Bridget. The ants crawled and tickled her as they walked through the hallways of the ship, running into fellow soldiers.

"Lieutenant," Anna said, looking up from her chess game with Andrew.

"Corporal," Cameron said. "Winning or losing?"

"Winning so far."

"I'm going easy on her," Andrew grinned.

"Sure you are," Cameron said. They passed the mess hall, and Cameron realized how bad it was for her to stay in her bunk for that long of a time; the food actually smelled good.

"Hey, she's up and about." Cameron's blood froze as Ted, closes to the archway, looked up from his meal. As usual, he ate alone.

"Hello, Ted," she said frostily.

"Hello yourself, Lieutenant," Ted smiled. Cameron could see that he wanted to giggle, but kept it to himself. "Getting some grub? Going outside? It's all you really do when you're out of your bunk."

"Going outside, just for a bit," Bridget said.

"I don't blame you. It's so beautiful out there, I could stand there forever," Ted laughed.

"Have a good meal, Corporal," Cameron said, walking away.

"Oh, I always do, Lieutenant," Ted called after them. "I always do."

"How did he get past selection?" Bridget hissed.

"The signs of child abuse didn't show up until we were in boot. Sloppy work by ONI," Cameron said. "And his mental instability didn't show up until after the augmentation. Remember? He was tolerable before, but now…"

"He's just creepy," Bridget finished. "Let's not talk about Ted."

"Yea."

Cameron kind of wished Bridget would talk about Ted; if she had something to talk about, she wouldn't pay so much attention to the mess that was the ship, and the ants wouldn't crawl over her skin in such a haste. By the time they reached the armory and airlocks, Cameron wondered if coming out of her neat, tidy little bunk was such a good idea.

"Come on, let's get suited up," she said, pulling off her uniform. She cursed the ants, who made her carefully fold it before putting it in her locker. She tugged at the edges, lining up the creases. By the time she was done, Bridget was already pulling on the gel layer of her armor.

"How long?" She asked.

"Five minutes."

Cameron groaned. This was insane. She reached into her locker and pulled out the gel layer and began tugging it on. It was like putting on a wet suit; the material stretched when you tugged it, but always returned to its original shape, and hugged your skin so much that it felt like it was your skin.

Finally, she was ready to suit up. She walked over to the armory where Bridget was already slapping on the pieces of her armor.

"Good morning, Cameron."

"Is it the morning? Good morning, Lyn," Cameron said. The armory's holographic projector warmed up, and their first generation Smart AI turned on. Lyn's avatar was a nomadic woman with long hair. The green projection turned to face her.

"Taking a stroll outside to ease your worries?"

"That's the idea."

Lyn's holographic projection changed. The changes were minute; her rough-spun, knee-length dress suddenly gained creases, her hair seemed to magically untangle itself, and the dirt of nomadic existence disappeared from her face. To Cameron, she neatened up.

"Thanks."

"As long as you're more relaxed," Lyn said, curtsying. "I'm glad you're getting out of your bunk more often."

"You and just about everyone else on the ship," Cameron said, putting the final adjustments on her chest piece.

"And the _Nautilus_, too."

"Don't tell me they're worrying about me, too."

"Cameron, you're one of the best leaders the Spartan-Vs have. When you lock yourself in your bunk for two-thirds of the day, people take notice. Remember, we're the only two Spartan ships in this sector of space; we have to rely on each other if we want to remain effective."

"I appreciate it," Cameron said. She finished putting on her leg armor.

"Believe it or not, everyone keeps the ship as clean as possible for you," Bridget said. She had finished putting on her armor and was waiting for her. "I just wish we had your standards of clean."

"You're keeping the ship clean for me?"

"Of course. Even Ted cleans on a regular basis. I try to help when I can, but I'm a bit limited in what I can do," Lyn said. "So in solidarity, I defragment myself every hour."

"Please don't," Cameron said. "I'm flattered by the action, but I find it easier if everything wasn't as clean as it is."

"Why's that?" Lyn asked.

"Because it's almost perfect, but not quite perfect. I want to fix everything, make it absolutely perfect, not just mostly perfect."

"Ah, I see," Lyn said, smiling. "The closer it is to perfection, the more glaring the flaws become. Shall I tell the crew to mess things up a bit for you?"

"I never thought I'd say it, but yes."

"Things will be nice and messy and disorganized by the time your spacewalk is done."

"Please don't rub it in," Cameron groaned. The ants crawled as she finished putting on her armor. "Let's get out of here."

Bridget walked into the airlock, and Cameron followed.

_Com check,_ Cameron said. _Lyn, you read us?_

_Loud and clear._

_Read me?_ Bridget said.

_Perfectly._ You are both ready. _Cycling airlock._

The doors to the airlock hissed closed, and then the room decompressed. Air flooded out in one brief second, and was replaced with hard vacuum. The doors slid open, and Cameron engaged the magnetic soles on her Mjolnir boots.

_Enjoy the view. Sunrise is in three minutes,_ Lyn said.

Cameron and Bridget walked out onto the hull of the ship. There was a brief moment of vertigo, but Cameron was by far used to it. She mentally righted herself, and the micro gravity stopped bothering her. Below her, Circumstance spun slowly in the void, the oceans a deep blue and the landmass a healthy green. Lights winked on the surface, and ships hung in orbit. They were truly lucky to be spared from a bulk of the fighting; with so many colonies lost, they were going to be the most likely place for eventual expansion back into space.

The planet spun, everything was as it should be, the right way, absolutely perfect. Cameron breathed deeply.

_Feel better?_ Bridget asked.

_Much._

_Want to stay out here for a while?_

_Very much so._

Cameron stood on the hull and was able to forget about the time for the first time of her deployment. In the micro gravity, she was able to just stand and stand.

_Slipspace anomaly detected,_ Lyn said. _Signatures match Covenant cruisers and dreadnaughts._

Suddenly things changed. Lights winked into existence just above the planet. What looked like a dozen Covenant ships materialized, and began launching plasma torpedoes at the UNSC ships in orbit.

_Oh, no,_ Bridget said. _That looks like an entire Covenant assault group._

_Lyn, how many ships are those?_ Cameron demanded.

_Thirty,_ the AI said. _Most are cruisers, but I've scanned two dreadnaughts and five frigates. _

_Because that's better news. Bring us to red alert and contact the _Nautilus_. We're going in, _Cameron said.

_Attacking that battle group wouldn't be wise._

_Wouldn't be Spartan if it wasn't hard, _Bridget said as they ran to the airlock. Soon they were back inside the ship. Seeing the Covenant made it easier to look at the mess that was inside the ship; Cameron had other things to worry about than the angles and organization. Inside, the alarm was blaring, and the armory was filling up with all thirty of the Spartans.

"Get dressed, Spartans! We have a large Covenant assault group to fight!" Cameron shouted. "Lyn, do you have Anna online?"

"I've pinged Baldwin. He'll notify me when Anna is available."

"What he to say about this attack?"

"It is a large attack force, but the ships appear to have been previously damaged and never fully repaired." The holographic projector shimmered, and Lyn stood with a moving, chiseled Greek statue, Baldwin's avatar. He resembled the statue David, and was as nude as the statue was. "I don't believe that this attack group is part of the main Covenant body. They're most likely radicals."

"Since when have the radicals have that much firepower?"

"We don't have time to speculate," Lyn said. "Anna is available. Bringing her online now."

The holographic display widened, and Anna's heavily scared holographic face blinked into existence.

"Cameron, you know the name of the game?" She said.

"We all do," Cameron said. She tried not to think about it, but the ants crawled. What would happen if she ever got hit as bad as Anna had? The ants would never stop bothering her.

"Then you have a plan," Anna said.

"Lyn, pull up a map of the invasion."

"Compiling."

Lyn replaced herself with a map to improve the holographic clutter. Circumstance was a small wire-frame globe, the Covenant ships the size of walnuts, and the assault ships and drop ships were tiny dots. Cameron looked up to quickly check on her squad. Most were fully armored.

"Is it too early to guess where their target is?" Cameron asked.

"Correct."

"We can't mount a proper counter-attack until we know where they're going," Cameron said. "How are the UNSC ships doing?"

"They're being cut down," Baldwin said. "This is a sucker punch, and they're paying for it." He paused. "Then again, they're doing very good. One cruiser just got to combat readiness and destroyed a frigate."

"They need to do better than that if they want to survive," Anna said. "Ideas?"

"We're two ships against thirty—"

"Twenty nine," Baldwin corrected.

"What's the difference? We'll split, stay with our respective groups. Lyn, Baldwin, do the dreadnaughts match any known ships in our database?"

"We can't match a name for it, but we have a schematic for it," Lyn said. "We're nine-one percent sure it's the correct schematic, anyways."

"That's good enough for Spartan odds. Anna, your team is more equipped for EVA; you'll infiltrate a dreadnaught and take over it. See if you can turn its guns on the smaller ships before detonating it. Since my team has the heavy weapons and tanks, we'll hot drop and stall the ground advances once we find their LZ. That should buy the UNSC some time to counter-attack. Have we broadcasted a warning to both the UNSC and Sparta?"

"It was the very first thing we did," Baldwin said.

"So we'll have a day or so before we get any response or show of force," Bridget said.

"Looks that way," Cameron said. "Anna, you have a plan?"

"Nothing that's better than yours. Not without a few hours of planning, anyways."

"Then we have our assignments. Strike while the iron is hot, Anna. And take out a cruiser for us."

"Wilco. Out." The line ended, and Lyn's avatar reappeared.

"We all set, Spartans?" Cameron yelled.

"Ready!" Everyone chorused.

"Then get to the launch bay! Double time! Go!" She led them through the corridors of the ship, cramped before, but now almost too small in their armor. An icon in her helmet pulsed as Lyn opened up a private channel with her.

_Are you sure about this course of action, Cameron?_ She asked. _It doesn't seem like there is a lot of room for error._

_There isn't._

_Are you well? Your biometrics show say you're very stressed._ Cameron didn't say anything. _Please, just be careful. Don't take any risks you don't have to._

_We're already taking giant risks,_ Cameron said. Her shoulder bumped against a corner as she jumped down the stairs to the lower level. _We have to stop the Covenant before they kill everyone. It's just like Cho Rio all over again._

_That was a significantly smaller attack force,_ Lyn said.

_We still have to try._

_Just…be careful. You're not expendable._

Cameron bit her lip. Did Lyn say that because she knew her old nickname? Did she say it because she thought that's what she wanted? It was hard to tell with AIs. The doors to the launch bay opened as they ran in. Inside were two fully armored Pelican drop ships, and four modified tanks. Originally called Scorpions, now called Grizzlies, they were modified to carry more armor, as well as a massive point-defense machine gun and an additional main cannon.

Four Spartans, led by Rabi, jumped into the Grizzlies and bolted themselves in. The tank's sleds would be dropped with the Pelicans, and would hit the ground ready to fight. With the drivers in, the rest of the Spartans grabbed HALO, high atmosphere low opening, packs, just in case they needed to ditch the drop ships. The Pelican pilots ran in first, quickly followed by the rest of the Spartans. Cameron, the squad leader, was last.

"Lyn, is there anything on enemy ground location?" She asked.

"The Covenant have made ground fall," the AI said. "Only a few are actively attacking; the bulk of the force seems to be securing a beachhead."

"So that's where we hit them," Cameron said. "What kind of equipment do they have down there?"

"Unknown," Lyn said. "I'm attempting to infiltrate UNSC networks to get a better idea on their armaments."

"Well, are they Elites? Brutes?"

"The attack force seems to be mostly Elites," Lyn said. "I've picked up numerous transmissions based on the old Covenant religion. It appears that they want to slaughter humans for interrupting the Great Journey."

"So definitely hinge-head zealots, then," Cameron said.

"I've got a fix on their location," Lyn said, her holographic form lighting up to a neon green. "They have heavy armaments, namely Wraiths and pylons, in the area."

"How much ship-to-ship fire is there?"

"Plenty. If you take the Pelicans, I'm certain you would be shot down."

"We need to get groundside, and fast. Can you get us to the planet in the prowler?"

"Won't be a problem. Our stealth systems should keep us off the radar, so to speak."

"Then do it. We have our target, Spartans," Cameron said. "Plan is this: we take the prowler to high-atmo to get past ship-to-ship fire, then drop to the planet. Soon as we're in atmo, we set the Pelicans to nose-dive some of the biggest spires we can find, and go HALO. Understood?"

Her HUD winked green as every Spartan registered the plan.

"Get ready, we're Oscar Mike."

"There are significant Covenant forces there," Lyn said. "Is this truly the best course of action?"

"It's the only course of action we have right now. Take us in, than bug out."

"Understood. If the worst come to pass, it was an honor serving with you." A horse appeared next to her as Lyn ripped her dress and mounted the horse. She drew a sword and pulled on the reigns, rearing in the air. "To war!"

The prowler brutally accelerated, but everyone was ready and simply swayed with the motion. Cameron wished she knew that this was the right thing to do. The ants crawled, but for once, not for her messy room, the trashed ship, or her un-moisturized and unwashed skin; she was scared she was truly becoming the Attrition Queen. The ship dipped and weaved.

_Anyone spot us yet?_

_Not yet; there are plasma detonations and other heat signatures to cover ours, but it is only a matter of time, surely,_ Lyn said, ridding the galloping horse. _I'm going to skim the top of the ionosphere, then drop you._

_What's that charming ODST saying?_ Ted chuckled. _Oh yea, 'feet first into Hell.'_

_Any anti-air?_ Cameron asked.

_Nothing yet, although they do seem to be erecting shield pylons._

_Are they functioning yet?_

_No._

_Alright Spartans, we're in the clear,_ Cameron said, keeping her voice even. Ted cheered. _Plan remains the same. Grizzlies, we're aiming for the tallest spire, we'll meet up on the ground._

Acknowledgement lights winked on in her HUD.

_Break into fire teams. Move fast, stay near the Grizzlies, keep them safe from infantry. _She divided her squad into the smaller teams. _Team leaders respond directly to me. Ted? Do your thing. You're the lone wolf._

Ted spammed the comm channel with laughter before switching to his own private channel.

_Anna, you copy? What's your status?_

_Inside the dreadnaught now,_ Anna said. Gunfire and plasma rounds hissed through the air, making it hard to hear her. _Taken light casualties, but we caught them off-guard._

_Understood,_ Cameron said, grimacing. _We're hot dropping soon and will be out of contact._

_Kill a few goldies for us._

_Wilco. Out. Lyn, ETA to atmo?_

_Less than one minute._ The ship pitched wildly, making Cameron's stomach roll. She hoped her men wouldn't get killed. They were Spartans, dammit, and Spartans don't die.

_Skimming the atmosphere. Opening bay doors,_ Lyn said. The temperature jumped as the doors opened. _Dropping. Don't forget to land feet first, Spartans._

Suddenly they were out the door, and everything rolled with hard deceleration as the dropships plunged through the atmosphere. And just as suddenly as it started, it stopped.

_We're through the atmo,_ the pilot said. _ETA to target, five minutes. Locking autopilot on targets, and we're set._

_Good. Open the doors. Lock and load, Spartans, we jump on my mark._

The doors to the ship opened, and wind pushed at Cameron. She held the handhold tighter and peered out. They were headed almost straight down, so there would be little to scatter them. She took solace knowing they would land together.

Her HUD flashed as Bridget opened a private channel with her.

_It's a good plan,_ she said. _The best we could have given no notice._

_I hope it's good enough,_ Cameron said. _Ready? Mark!_

She threw herself out of the Pelican, and the wind instantly tugged her away from the ship as it spiraled downwards. Cameron pushed her arms and legs out to the spread eagle position and stabilized her fall. She checked her motion detector; her Spartans were on the fringes of the range, but were there, all of them from the two drop ships.

_Spread out, avoid anti-air,_ she said, and they drifted apart. Looking down, she saw the small flashes of gunfire and plasma discharge. The Covenant truly were there in force; it looked like a sea of purple and blue dots as vehicles and troops contested for ground space. The Pelicans soon became smaller and smaller dots as they fell towards their targets, their engines small orange pixels as they adjusted their fall.

Cameron thought she saw them draw fire, but at her height, it was impossible to tell. What she did see was the two drop ships crashing into spires. They exploded into beautiful orange fireballs, followed by secondary explosions, balls of blue plasma fire. It would make their landing smoother.

With five hundred meters until the ground, Cameron ripped open her parachute, and was jerked upwards. The ground still rapidly approaching, she prepared herself, clenching her muscles to stop the blood from rushing down to her feet. Such a thing might result in a temporary blackout, and was to be avoided at all costs.

The small rocket boosters in the entry pack activated in the last hundred meters. The deceleration gripped her tightly and she flexed even more. The rockets cut out, and she fell two feet to the ground, already pulling out her DMR on pure muscle memory.

The ground surrounding them was ground zero for the Pelican rams, and not much of the shield spires remained. Burning bits of metal littered the area, and a few grunts, jackals and elites that were lucky enough to survive the blast were trying to get to their feet. Cameron and her team quickly put them down.

_Touchdown! Fire teams, report in,_ she said.

_Fire team Alpha, sounding off._

_Fire team Beta, all good._

_Fire team Charlie, sounding off._

_Fire team Delta, we're ready._

_Fire team Epsilon, ready to fight._

_Ted here, ready to rock._

_All fire teams, this is fire team Actual, we're all set. Alpha, Beta, Charlie, you're hunting-killing any heavy Covenant troops. Delta, Epsilon, you're with me. We're babysitting some Grizzlies for spire duty. Go!_

Green lights winked on as the teams went about their duties. Her motion tracker showed the two fire teams falling in on her position, while the rest branched out. The Covenant were recovering from the bombing, and were coming out from their hiding spots. Cameron spotted elites and jackals and waves of grunts.

_This is going to be one hell of a fight,_ Bridget said, taking out a blue-armored elite with a headshot.

_Take cover in the wreckage of the spire,_ Cameron said. _Move._

They moved as one, running to the wreckage. Plasma fire sparked off their shields, draining them as they went. As soon as they were in the wreckage, they saw that a large group of elites had the same idea for cover, too. Cameron counted ten as she threw a grenade.

_Move! _She jumped backwards as a wave of plasma hissed through the spot she was standing just a millisecond ago. Her team poured fire on them, but they were red armored elites, and had better shields than the blue armored ones. One elite roared and charged Cameron, who took his shields down with the last of her clip, and bashed his brain in with the butt of the rifle. She was barely hit, but Bridget was. She dropped to a knee as an overloaded plasma pistol took out her shields and rolled behind a large piece of shrapnel.

The grenade exploded a half-second later, blowing three elites up. That's when the surviving ones stepped aside, and a gold armored field marshal activated a plasma sword. Cameron's blood ran cold as she smoothly drew her sidearm and reached for another grenade.

The elite let lose a savage roar and charged forward, shots glancing off his powerful shields. Cameron was about to prime the grenade when green gauntlets reached out from behind the elite, a knife in one hand. Ted jumped on the elite's back and brutally stabbed it in the neck. The shields failed and bluish/purplish ichor gushed out of the wound as Ted all but decapitated the elite. Laughing, he grabbed the plasma sword and turned it on the surviving elites, cutting three down where they stood. Two tried to fight, but Ted quickly skewered them.

The last elite was able to get a shot off. Ted dodged it and cut his legs off at the backwards knee. The elite screamed and fell into Ted's hands. He began to slowly strangle the elite.

_Alright, Spartans, let the man work. Move out,_ Cameron said. Ted laughed as he slowly fractured the elite's neck.

_Grizzlies on the ground,_ Rabi, the squad leader, said.

_Form up on the Grizzlies,_ Cameron said, reloading her DMR. She left Ted to his business and pulled up a quickly-scanned map of the area. _Move to the next intact spire._

Her squad moved out, sticking as close to the wrecked spire as they could. More Covenant were coming out from their hiding places, or were otherwise recovering from the Pelican crashes. A line of jackals were forming a phalanx with their shields, protecting a few elites. Cameron was able to shoot one in the center through the small curve in the shield. The jackal went down, breaking the phalanx. She and the rest of her squad were quick to pick off the jackals. The elites went down harder, pitching grenades before dying. Bridget dove, barely avoiding the blast.

_Status,_ Cameron barked at her.

_Winded, but fine._

_Then get up, Spartan. We're on the clock._

The Grizzlies rolled forward, their engines chugging. A small team of ghosts drove by, the elites and grunts driving not even trying to avoid their fire, or return fire themselves. The Grizzlies' cannons exploded, turning them into scrap metal and blue mist.

_Looks like they still don't know what's going on,_ Cameron said._ We've got a few seconds before they do. Move forward, Spartans. We're going for the biggest spires first._

They crested a small hill, killing grunts, before coming upon the next spire. It was easily two hundred meters tall, and judging from the ground forces surrounding it, it wasn't operational. Cameron quickly scanned the base. Engineers skittered around the spire, under a heavy guard of elites.

_Grizzlies, target the spire and enemy vehicles,_ she said. _Fire teams, take out the troops. Get the engineers first; the enemy is in short supply of them._

The tank's cannons opened fire, blowing pieces of the spire apart. The structure rocked, but stayed upright. The Covenant quickly returned fire, plasma bolts and needles bouncing off the Grizzlies' thick skin. Cameron and her team took cover behind boulders and rocks that scattered the desert-like battlefield.

The fire intensified as more Covenant converged on their position from all around the landing field. No longer safe behind the boulders, shots wore down Cameron's shields. She grit her teeth and aimed at the Covenant who were flanking them.

_Fire teams, status,_ she said.

_Grizzlies are fine,_ Rabi said. _But out paint job is scuffed._

_Alpha and Beta taking fire. No casualties._

_Charlie and Delta running low on ammo. We're using Covvie weapons._

_Epsilon reporting one WIA. Moving to a spire to use as cover._ _Marking it on map; do not fire upon our position._

Ted just laughed.

The energy core in the spire ahead of them detonated, killing every Covenant surrounding it and rattling Cameron's teeth.

_Move on to the next one,_ she said, marking her map. _Grizzlies, move first._

An energized, metallic thumping sound announced the arrival of a pack of hunters. Fuel rod rounds soared overhead, a few hitting the Grizzlies. Ten cautiously advanced, covering themselves with their heavy metal shields.

_Take those things out!_

The Grizzlies didn't need her to tell them to shoot. They belched fire and death, taking three hunters out. The heavy weapons members of her teams launched rockets, killing another four. The remaining hunters were able to get another salvo off before being killed. The neon green balls of fused matter exploded around Cameron. She heard a scream.

_I'm hit,_ Rabi screamed. _Shot penetrated the canopy._

_Bridget, get to her._

_I can still drive,_ she gasped, fighting the pain. _Keep up the push._

_Move forward, we've got another shield spire to take out._

The column of Grizzlies was slower to move, but they kept the Covenant at bay with their cannons and heavy machine guns. Cameron and her fire teams darted ahead of them, loosening the wave of Covenant before they could damage the Grizzlies anymore.

_What's the status of Rabi?_ Cameron asked Bridget.

_She took a bad hit; she's got third degree burns on her chest, face, and is down an eye. I put her on some morphine, but she should be able to keep fighting._

_What about her armor?_

_Almost completely shredded. I pulled off her helmet before it could fuse with her head._

_Keep an eye on her._

The next spire was more fortified. It was impossible for the Covenant to not know they were there, and they were now moving against them. Wraiths and ghosts were at the frontlines, with a large platoon of foot soldiers.

_Get the ghosts first,_ Cameron ordered. _Grizzlies, keep moving. Fire teams, focus on the soldiers. Charlie, Delta, can you counter-attack?_

_Yes ma'am. We're less than a hundred meters from your position. ETA ten seconds._

_Lookie-lookie what I got!_

Cameron looked upwards as a banshee screamed overhead, the jet pods at full burn. It made a bee-line for the frontlines. Seconds before it crashed, Ted jumped out, laughing like a mad man.

_Check fire, Spartans, we've got a friendly in there._

The Grizzlies stopped firing their main guns, but kept up a steady stream of machine gun fire. It kept most of the Covenant down on the ground. Cameron's motion detector registered friendly tags; across from the spire, the other fire teams had arrived. They began cutting down the Covenant who's backs were to them. They fell by the score, and soon, only Ted was left alive. His shoulders were heaving as he broke an elite's neck open. Cameron tried to ignore him as he dipped his fingers in the blood and drew a two-finger smile across his visor.

_Take that spire out._ The cannons rang as the shells pierced the metal plating of the spire. With it gone, they could now focus on the advancing Covenant ground troops. _How's Rabi doing?_

_She's fighting shock, but is still conscious. _

_The second she drops out, take over for her._

_Wilco._

The Covenant bared down on them, elites leading the charge to the fight. If they wanted a glorious death in leading a charge, Cameron was all too happy to give them one. Many fell on their way to the Spartans. Only a few elites made it close to them, and they swung into close combat. Her Spartans met them with grunts of effort as they caved in their heads with the butts of their rifles. A few drew pistols and knives and worked on forcing the charging Covenant back.

Cameron beat one elite down, brutally snapping his neck. She tried to reload when she saw a grunt running towards her, two primed plasma grenades in its hands. She tried to drop her rifle, to pull out her sidearm, but the grunt was far too close. With a cheer, it triggered the grenades. The high-pitched whine was all Cameron heard as she was blown away.

She gasped for breath, her chest on fire. Her armor chirped at her, her shields shot down. Something heavy was pushing her down. She blinked away stars as she pulled out her pistol, then wondered why she still had arms and legs. Moving up, the remains of Bridget's limp body rolled off of her. She was missing her right arm, and most of her chest has been blown open.

"No, no, no," Cameron muttered. She tried to open a private channel to her. _Bridget!_ Her suit told her she was dead. Even in the middle of combat, the ants suddenly crawled; she didn't want to be the Attrition Queen, she didn't want it.

What was it that Chief Kelly said? Push the pain down, focus on the adrenaline. Move, don't mope. Cameron grit her teeth and pulled herself to her feet.

_Watch for the grunts,_ she made herself say. _They're going suicidal. Grizzlies, give us some covering fire._

The heavy machine guns were already roaring, but they acknowledged her command. She grabbed Bridget's dog tags before moving on.

The Covenant were truly swarming now. Banshees were in the air and were raining plasma on them. The Grizzlies were hit, their armor turning cherry red with the heat, but they were able to track and blow them from the sky. Wraiths appeared at the edges of the field and began lobbing giant balls of plasma.

Cameron ran out of ammo and dropped her DMR, reaching for a discarded and stepped on carbine. Her suit recognized the stolen piece of Covenant weaponry and matched the ammo counter to the battery. Cameron fired until it was empty, and threw it away to find another gun, one with more ammo.

One wraith suddenly stopped and turned on the others. It lobbed a ball of energy that blew two up in one shot. The Covenant was slow to react to it and it destroyed another wraith, along with a team of elites. They quickly combined their fire on it, and the wraith moved away. Ted quickly jumped out and sprinted for cover before the wraith's armor was pierced and blew up.

_Fire team Actual, this is Charlie, Delta and Epsilon. We're taking heavy casualties, requesting support to withdraw._

_Fire team Actual copies all. How many casualties?_

_Nine KIA, repeat, nine KIA._ Cameron grimaced. That was almost two whole fire teams.

_Solid copy, are you still in cover at your marked spire?_

_Affirmative, fire team Actual. We're using it as cover. The Covenant aren't taking the spire out, they seem to need the spire intact more than we need it gone._

_Roger, fire teams. Good find, we're on our way._ She marked the objective on the squad map. _Spartans, move to that location. We're rescuing our own._

The Grizzlies slowly moved. Some of the treads were on fire, and the engines growled unhappily as they moved. Cameron tried not to look into Bridget's dead eyes as she passed her body. There was a look of peace on her face, like she was glad she saved Cameron. The moment was quickly over when a plasma round smacked into her head, dropping her shields. Cameron quickly regrouped, taking hits to the back. She shrugged them off as best she could, but still ended up stumbling.

The Covenant tried to block them as they moved, but the Grizzlies were able to make quick work of the ground troops.

_Grizzly Three, running low on ammo._

_How much do you have remaining?_ Cameron asked, taking cover as her shields sluggishly recharged. Her suit told her the shield emitters were damaged.

_Fifteen shells, three canister rounds and three boxes of heavy machine gun ammo, enough for ten minutes of sustained fire._

The machine gun ammo was good news; it was a heavy caliber, able to punch through an elite's shields in nothing flat. But the shells were worse news. If they ran out of that, and more Covenant armor showed up, they would be in trouble.

_Target infantry over armor, Grizzly Three,_ Cameron said.

_Roger._

_Rabi, what's your status?_

_I'm hurting, but alive,_ she said. Cameron heard her gasps of pain.

_Take it easy in there. You're no use to us if you black out._

_Ten-four, Actual._

_Incoming! Four banshees, nine-o'clock!_

Cameron dove for cover, getting behind a flaming piece of wraith armor and leaned out to see the banshees making a strafing run at them. They fired their fuel rod cannons, and the four green orbs fell on the Grizzlies. One was hit square in the engine and detonated, belching burnt oil clouds into the air. Another round landed in the middle of fire team Beta. One Spartan simply vanished, the others were thrown clear.

The banshees didn't make it away clean, however. One was shot down before it could pull up from the dive, and two more were shot down as they accelerated away. Cameron pulled herself up and ran to the injured Spartans. The Covenant were trying to pick them off, but she put two grunts and a jackal in their place with the last juice from a stolen plasma pistol. One Spartan's arm was burnt off. He was already in shock and couldn't even grunt in pain.

_Covering fire,_ she called. The Grizzly's machine guns roared a response. _Get a first aid kit on my spot._ She slung her soldier over her shoulders in a fireman's carry and was able to make it back to a Grizzly before the Covenant fire reached her. Her weakened shields sparked and failed, and she felt needles puncturing her armor and gel layer. The ants were still when the shards exploded.

_Medic, they've got Actual,_ someone said. Her vision swum as she reached for her stomach. There was blood everywhere, pouring out in great gouts. Her mind was blank, but her training made her clamp her hands on the wound, her gauntlets tearing a bit more of her flesh.

Someone carried her a few steps, shoving gauze into her hand. She quickly stuffed herself with the gauze, and a can of biofoam was pushed into place and injected. It felt like freezing ants were tickling her, but she was used to the sensation. She rolled more gauze across the wound. Her suit told her she had lost a lot of blood, and was in shock.

_Status, _she gasped.

_We're at the spire._

_Good. Get in cover._

The world spun with a thud, and she was suddenly sitting down inside the spire. Four Spartans were laid out on the ground, gaps in their armor and steam escaping from their bodies. She didn't want this, she really didn't. They should have spent more time planning. She didn't want it.

The gunfire, now entirely Covenant with the exception of the Grizzlies, continued outside. Cameron looked at her stomach. It was mince-meat, but the bleeding had stopped. Her gauntlets were soaked in red, contrasting heavily with the dark green. She groaned as she pulled herself to her feet. She realized she still had Bridget's dog tags in her left hand. She put them in an empty ammo pouch and looked for a gun. She found a needle rifle with a few rounds still left inside.

Outside, the Grizzlies were parked in a defensive formation, giving cover to her Spartans. The Covenant outside were lining up, jackals providing shield cover and sniper fire, grunts and elites making the bulk of the force. Cameron lined up a shot and took out a scavenger as it darted forward with a grenade. The gun clicked on empty, and she threw it away.

She sobbed in pain as she stood up and stumbled into the fray.

_Actual, get off your feet, _Rabi said. Her head stuck out from the Grizzly, which was on fire. Her face was one giant burn, and leaked blood and puss.

_Like hell I am,_ Cameron said. She found a plasma rifle, picked it up, and shot at the advancing wall of jackals. One of their shields flickered out, and the Grizzly's machine gun tore it down. With a hole in the wall, they quickly collapsed.

A hunter pair thudded onto the field and wasted no time into shooting at the immobilized tanks. One round hit the tank Cameron was taking cover on. The heat washed over her. She felt her unprotected stomach sizzle, cook and boil.

_Hull compromised,_ the driver said._ Nothing but smoke in here. Cover me, I'm coming up to get a clear- _

The Grizzly suddenly stopped firing. Cameron looked up to the driver, who had a neat little hole in the middle of his visor. Blood leaked out.

_Sniper,_ she said. _Get covering fire at two o'clock._

She dropped the plasma rifle and pulled her soldier out of the Grizzly. Her stomach protested, and her vision darkened. She laid him out on the ground and climbed into the tank, overriding the machine gun's computer. Screaming from seeing Bridget die, her men being slaughtered, and the pain of her stomach, she turned the gun on the Covenant. The recoil threatened to tear her apart, so she gripped it tighter.

The hunters hid behind their massive shields, the rounds bouncing off the armor. Out of the corner of her eye, Cameron saw Ted sprinting towards the hunters.

_Let me at 'em! _He roared. Cameron could hear the smile on his face.

She held her fire as Ted reached the closest hunter. He vaulted over the shield and slapped a plasma grenade onto its arm. Before it could react, the grenade detonated, severing its arm. The hunter moaned in pain, and Ted grabbed the discarded heavy weapon and turned it on the hunter, then its partner, then on the Covenant around him. Cameron helped him mow the aliens down, until the barrel of the gun was a neon red.

_Hey guys, they're keeping the party going! _Ted sang, nodding to his left. Another wave of Covenant crested a hill, five wraiths at the lead, countless grunts following, and what seemed like hundreds of elites leading them. Cameron took a ragged breath before turning the gun towards them.

The wraiths exploded into brilliant fireballs, cooking the troops by them. The grunts screamed and the elites roared at they were cut down by the dozen. Cameron didn't think she was doing that good a job, and then she saw the UNSC troops.

Longswords flew overhead, bombing the vehicles to dust, Hornets and Pelicans followed, dropping marines to the ground and pushing the elites back. Scorpions drove forward, taking out the vehicles the bombs missed, as well as some smaller spires and watchtowers.

"Ma'am?" Cameron looked down. A team of medics were running towards her. "We're here to help. Can you let go of the turret, ma'am?"

Cameron realized that she was gripping the gun in a death grip. She pried her hands off of it.

"Thank you ma'am. Come with us, we'll get you patched up."

Cameron couldn't believe they had survived. She wished she had died instead of Bridget.

"Take it easy," the medic said. "We've got you."

"My men," Cameron said.

"We're treating them."

"All of them?"

"All three."

"Three?" Cameron looked behind her. Marines were picking up the bodies of her Spartans, struggling with the weight of the Mjolnir armor, lying them on the ground respectfully. They even crossed their arms over their chests.

Two Spartans had medics attending them. Rabi was one, and she was being helped out of the burning remains of the Grizzly. Her face was a whole scab, leaking blood and puss.

"Jesus Christ," the medic swore.

"I've had a bad day," Rabi said.

"Did anyone else…?" Cameron asked.

"You're the only ones."

Numb, Cameron let herself be led to a waiting stretcher. Medics descended on her, fussing and cursing over her wounds.

"How do we remove the armor? We need to treat your wound." Cameron fumbled with an emergency latch at her back, trying to pry it open as she keyed a command to her suit. The piece reluctantly gave way, letting the medics get to her hastily patched up stomach. A team of marines jogged up to carry her to a makeshift clean room to be operated on. The other two Spartans were equally carried out.

"Sir?" A marine looked down on the last Spartan. He lay on the ground, arms and legs spread out, and seemed to be utterly relaxed. If his chest wasn't moving, the marine could have sworn the Spartan was dead. "Sir, are you okay? Do you need anything?"

Oddly, the Spartan didn't seem injured. The marine nudged the Spartan. "Sir?"

Suddenly, the Spartan was gripping his shin so tight, it felt like it was going to break. The marine didn't even have time to react.

"Go away, kid, you're bothering me," Ted snarled.

He let the marine go, who promptly ran away. Ted grinned to himself and rolled onto his back. He breathed deeply, remembering all the good kills he had. The warm, fuzzy tingling soon washed over him, and he was happy.

* * *

"Major Reed, what do you think you're doing?" Colonel Montgomery demanded.

"I'm saving these soldiers, sir." The holographic display did too good a job showing the seething hatred on Reed's face. His cheeks were flushed, and he stood at ridged attention.

"You disobeyed direct orders, endangered the lives of your men, and for what? To save the rogue Spartans? Are you turning traitor?"

"Those _soldiers_ sacrificed their lives to save ours," Reed said frostily. "If it wasn't for them, the Covenant would have set up a heavily fortified beachhead, and it would be all over us. Civilian casualties would have been astronomical, the worst we would have seen since Reach fell. They would have killed every single human on this planet. And with air and ground superiority, removing them from Circumstances would lead to a massive loss of human life.

"They not only stalled the ground advances, but also captured a dreadnought and destroyed a majority of the ships in orbit, not only saving _all_ of our asses, but enabling us to beat them out of the system with our first counter-attack. This went from a textbook defeat to the best-case scenario in no time flat. They deserve our help, ONI be damned."

"Watch your mouth," Montgomery demanded. "The Spartans are a dangerous rogue group, and should not have been rescued. You should have left them to be killed by the Covenant!"

"They deserve more than that, _Colonel_."

"You are aware why they defected from the UNSC, aren't you?"

"Yes, sir, I do."

"And you want to save those monsters?"

"Sir, I find the Spartans and their projects disgusting," Reed said. "Vile, even. But they are soldiers, and those soldiers just gave most of their lives to save us. As a fellow soldier, I owe it to them to return the favor. I don't expect an ONI man like you to understand."

Montgomery bristled at the insult.

"And the men under your command? Did they chose to follow you as you disregarded orders, or did you force them?"

"They chose to, actually," Reed said. "When I heard the Spartans were on the ground, I knew they would need help. So I told my men my plan, and asked for volunteers. Because they _understand_ what it means to be a soldier, they all volunteered. We readied ourselves, and moved out."

Montgomery didn't like being insulted, let alone twice by the same person.

"And what about our own small team of Spartans?" He asked. "Did you ask them, too?"

"The IVs? No, I was under the assumption that they had better things to do."

"You're right, they do have better things to do than turn traitor." Montgomery shut down the connection. He hated that self-righteous prick.

"So what do we do?" Anna, his aide, underling and protégé asked.

"What the major did was an act of insurrection. Now we show them what insurrectionists get."

"But Director Osman ordered us not to arrest soldiers who cooperate with the Spartan Vs."

"I never said we should arrest them," Montgomery said. "Contact Snyder, get him and his team of Spartans up here ASAP."

"Y-yes, sir."

* * *

Cameron played with Bridget's dog tags. The cheap metal felt wrong, like it weighted too much. The ants crawled, but she couldn't muster up the energy to fix herself, or to put her armor back on. It lay is splintered sections on the table next to her. Her helmet glared down at her. There was a knock on the door, and the Major called Reed walked in.

"Major," Cameron said, saluting.

"At ease," he said. "How are you doing?"

"Well, sir. The medics did a good job on me. Thank you for relieving us."

"No, I have to thank you for your help," Reed said. "What you did was nothing short of a miracle. You stopped a Covenant assault, saving a planet and countless lives."

"I lead my men to their deaths, sir."

Reed paused, awkwardly nodding.

"Yes, and we appreciate that sacrifice. They did a lot of good. Did you lose anyone important?"

"My partner."

"Your…partner?"

"Yes. She jumped on a plasma grenade for me. I couldn't help her."

"I'm sorry."

"Thank you."

"We'll honor her bravery, even though many of us don't want to thank you."

"You mean ONI."

"And a sizable portion of the marines," Reed said. "We don't like you, or what you do to your children. But any soldier that fights with me deserves respect."

"Thank you for being so understandable."

Reed nodded. Cameron looked at him.

"If you don't mind, sir, I'd like some privacy."

"Of course," Reed said. He saluted her again, then turned on his heel and walked out. Cameron reached for her helmet, slipped it on, and tried to call up Lyn. On the fourth connection attempt, it went through.

"Cameron? At last, I was wondering when I might hear from you," the AI said.

"How is Anna?"

"Anna survived," Lyn said. "Her team completed their mission. They captured the dreadnaught and turned it on the other Covenant ships, destroying twelve before abandoning it. By then, UNSC forces were able to rally, and they destroyed the remaining ships."

"Casualties?"

"High," Lyn said, sadness in her voice. "Twenty KIA."

Cameron couldn't help but cringe. She covered her face with her hands. Twenty? She lost forty-five soldiers, no, lead forty-five of her soldiers to their deaths, including Bridget.

"It was as best a plan that you could formulate, that anyone could formulate," Lyn said.

"Thank you, Lyn."

"You should have nothing to be ashamed of."

"Shut up!"

Lyn didn't respond for the longest time.

"How would you like to proceed?" She said, completely neutral.

"Is Anna back on her ship?"

"Yes."

"Have them got ready for us, we'll leave inside the hour."

"Understood."

Cameron pulled off her helmet and let it fall to the ground. She had to get ready.

* * *

Snyder was quiet as they snuck through the camp. It was midnight, and the rogue Spartans were still groundside. They had forty minutes to detain the four remaining Spartans, and three of them were too injured to fight back. That left the only uninjured one to go after first.

_Team, ready?_ He said.

_Ready._

_Booted and suited._

_Roger, nice and frosty._

_Chomping at the bit._

He grinned. Now they would show that Spartan IVs could beat a Spartan V. The freak wouldn't know what hit him. The camp was quiet, with only a few trace sounds coming from a click away. He knew that ONI and the loyal marines were getting ready; they would be the first strike to take them down.

_Approaching target,_ he said. The nav marker on his HUD showed that the Spartan was just ahead, staying in a converted shipping container. _Stack up._

He stood next to the door while his team lined up behind him. He felt an armored hand pat him on the shoulder; they were ready.

_Go_.

He cranked the door open, his augmented strength more than enough to open it. His team quickly darted inside.

"Freeze!"

No one was inside.

_Got eyes on target?_ Snyder said.

_Nothing._

Snyder walked in and was tapped on the shoulder. He spun around, coming face-to-face with the Spartan.

"Just so you know, when there's nothing else making noise, the servos in your armor are really loud," Ted said.

"Freeze!" Snyder said, jumping away from the larger man and bringing his rifle to bear. His team was right with him.

"Yea, I heard you the first time," the Spartan Ted said. "I thought you weren't going to make a move on us."

"Your protection was the actions of a traitor," Snyder said. "We're here to bring you to justice."

Snyder didn't see the shoulders shake, but he saw the motion of them. He tried to see it, but when he looked at the Spartans' shoulders, he couldn't see them move.

"And you're what, going to arrest me?"

"Yes. Turn around and put your hands to you head, lacing your fingers."

The Spartan's shoulders shook minutely. This time, Snyder saw it.

"You sure you want to do this?"

"Are you resisting arrest? Turn around, and put your hands to your head!"

"Alright," the Spartan said. He slowly raised his hands, put them behind his head, and turned around.

_Watch him,_ Snyder said. He walked forward and took out a suppresser chip out of his pocket. The chip would go into the neural interphase the Spartan had, and restrict his movement. He was about to chip the Spartan, then suddenly he was gone.

Snyder heard his arm snap in half, and just as suddenly he crashed against the wall of the container, the world spinning beneath him. Guns went off, and suddenly stopped. He struggled to his feet. His arm was twisted completely around, bent mid forearm.

_That's impossible,_ he thought. _My bones are supposed to be unbreakable._

He turned around to see the Spartan advance on him with a bloodied knife. The bodies of his men were on the ground. They were all limp.

Snyder tried to move, but the Spartan caught him. He was thrown to the ground, with arms wrapped around his neck.

"Please…"

"'Please?' Please what, not kill you?" The Spartan breathed. The arms tightened, twisting his neck. "Why would I do that? You wanted to kill me, so you must be fine with getting killed in return. Turnabout is fair play, right?"

Snyder tried to fight, but it was his weak muscles against the Spartan's strong muscles, and the Spartan was very strong. His neck twisted. He tried to speak, but his throat was crushed. He could barely breathe.

"I mean, why else would you be here if you weren't fine with being killed?" The Spartan said. "You could have been a civilian, stayed out of the way of trouble. But you had to go out looking for it, didn't you? Just running right into the jaws of death."

The arms twisted. Snyder flailed.

"Why _did_ you go looking for trouble? Was it the thrill? It was, wasn't it? We're not so different, you know. Looking for danger, for that brush with death, that _petit morte_, the little death that comes just when you know you're screwed."

The Spartan's breath deepened. Even though there were two sets of armor between them, Snyder thought he could feel the Spartan's hot breath on him. The arms twisted. Snyder's neck screamed in agony.

"Don't you love that feeling? That you are so close to death, you can reach out and touch it. You can grab it, make it your death in just one motion, or lack of motion. It's yours, just that one, little, lingering kiss that sticks with you, that stays on your mind, just underneath the surface."

The arms tightened. A disk popped and white hot pain lanced through Snyder. He screamed, and started to cry.

"Isn't it great?" The Spartan demanded. "Isn't that feeling great? It takes up your mind, that one, simple feeling, that little death that could be all yours. Don't you love it? Of course you do. You volunteered, you tried to find it, chase it down. Why else would you be here?"

"Please," Snyder choked out. He didn't know how he spoke.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" The Spartan hissed. "That little death to slowly become the big death. I would. You'd like that too, wouldn't you? I mean, you're here, trying to kill me, trying to find that feeling again, aren't you?"

Snyder tried to fight, but the Spartan was far too strong.

"Why else would you be here? Why? Why are you denying it?"

The Spartan relaxed his grip, and Snyder was able to speak.

"T-to fight for the UNSC," he stammered.

"Bullshit." The arms tightened. "You liked killing aliens, didn't you?"

The arms relaxed.

"You liked the feeling of fighting, the feeling of killing, of coming close to the edge, and seeing another living thing take its last breath. You like that, don't you?"

"…Yes."

"That wasn't so hard, was it?" The Spartan chuckled. "I love that little death, too. Why else would I be here? See, we have something in common." The arms tightened. "It fascinates you, doesn't it, the thought of dying. You get that little death, but you secretly crave that big death. I do, and we have that in common."

Snyder nodded, crying.

"So don't worry, you'll like it. Just say that you want it, and it will all be over."

The arms tightened, just enough to remind Snyder of their strength.

"Come on, say it. Don't you want in? Don't you want that feeling? Think of how much you love that little death, and I'm offering the real thing to you. Don't you want that?"

"Yes," Snyder mumbled.

The Spartan was right; it was a welcome release.

* * *

Ted snapped the fake Spartan's neck. It felt and sounded like he was breaking a stalk of celery. The body went limp, and still. Ted sighed, rolling onto his back. He let the warm, tingling wash over him. It started at his spine, going all the way down to his toes. He lay on the ground for a minute, relishing it. Just when he was getting used to it, it went away, leaving him wanting more. He sighed, got to his feet and opened a comm channel.

_Cameron? We might have a small problem._


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Cameron stood in the field as best she could. Her stomach felt like it was going to tear itself in two, but she felt worse standing next to Bridget's body, just one of the many lying in a cheap military coffin. It would do until they got back to Sparta. Their Pelican couldn't land fast enough.

"You should be resting," Major Reed said.

"I should be here," Cameron said. "My second team will be here for dust off soon."

"And your men?" Reed looked at Rabi and Steven, the only other surviving Spartans, standing in the field. Like Cameron, they stood in the field, some wobbling in place, ready to leave. Only Ted was missing. Cameron would give him one more minute, then she would yell at him, even though just looking at him made the ants crawl.

"I gave them the option to lie down. They elected to stand."

Reed snorted, dismissing her. Cameron looked away. Where was Ted? He said that he was going to get some shut eye, but no one could find him. As much as Cameron was scared of him, she would have to go look for him. After all, he was one of her team; he would be looked out for.

_Sierra oh-one-six, we are inbound. ETA two minutes,_ Lyn said. She seemed far colder than ever before. Cameron didn't mind.

"Roger. Our ride is coming, Spartans. Has anyone seen Ted?"

"Major Reed." Cameron looked up. Colonel Montgomery stormed up to Reed, dressed in a sharp pressed ONI uniform. A small guard, also ONI, accompanied him, along with a small woman who looked very scared. Cameron stared at the woman.

_Cameron, we might have a small problem, _Ted said on the team's comm line.

"Colonel Montgomery. What can I do for you?" Reed asked, addressing him offhand.

_What is it, Ted?_

_A team of Spartan IVs just visited me. They wanted to kill me._

"I demand that you arrest that Spartan immediately," Montgomery said. It was obvious that there was bad blood between the two. "They are deserters and terrorists."

_I think they're going to make a play on us._

"Colonel, we've been over this before," Reed said. "The Spartans have done us a service, and I will not arrest them for helping save an entire planet…"

"So you willingly conspire with terrorists?" Montgomery said.

The small woman looked at Cameron. She very clearly mouthed 'run.'

"What are you talking about?" Reed said, turning to face Montgomery. The woman shrieked, and Cameron tried to grab Reed. He turned, just in time to see Montgomery press the barrel of his pistol against his forehead. Cameron reached him just as Montgomery squeezed the trigger.

"The punishment for treachery and terrorism is death," Montgomery said. Cameron caught Reed's body. "You're all guilty. Kill them."

The ONI forces standing around the landing zone shouldered their weapons.

"Move!" Cameron screamed. ONI opened fire. Shots sparked off Cameron's shields, but she and her remaining men were able to sprint across the field to the cover of a building. She looked behind her, amazed at her luck. Her blood froze as she saw Montgomery's ONI forces were killing Reed's marines.

"We need to help them," Cameron said.

_Sierra oh-one-six, what is going on down there?_ Lyn demanded. _UNSC comm channels are going crazy._

"ONI is killing the marines," Cameron said.

_Calm down, Sierra. Your heart rate is skyrocketing. _

"Get here on the double, we need to help those marines."

_There is little to do. There are only five Spartans onboard one Pelican, and they all have mild to serious injuries. The second Pelican isn't even occupied, it's to carry the bodies back. Regardless, current rules of engagement also forbid firing on UNSC personal unless fired upon._

"We have to save them!"

_Hey guys, I have an idea,_ Ted said. _Let's have those marines join us so we can actually, oh, I don't know, _shoot back_._

_Now is not the time for jokes,_ Lyn snapped.

"Open a channel to the marine personnel," Cameron said. "We'll offer to save them."

_What?_ Lyn said.

_That was a joke,_ Ted said.

"We have to save those men. Lyn, open a channel."

_We don't have the authority to offer that many marines amnesty._

"That's an order, Lyn," Cameron barked. "I'm not having any more of those men die."

_Very well,_ Lyn said_. Opening channel. You are now talking to over one thousand marines._

"All UNSC marines, this is Spartan oh-one-six Cameron. You have heard of our offer to take in UNSC forces, and we are giving you that offer now. We will, to the best of our abilities, protect you from ONI forces, but our rules of engagement prohibit us, unless you join us. We can give you food and shelter, but you will be joining us for life. You will not be able to go back to the UNSC. If you want to join us, please, tune you friend-or-foe tags to channel three, and join comm channel alpha-epsilon."

Cameron waited, her heart hammering. Gunfire rang out, and men and women screamed. The channel was empty. Only Cameron, Rabi, Ted, Steven and Lyn were on it.

_Please, save yourselves,_ Cameron thought. The ants crawled as she waited. One tag changed to a neutral party, and a marine joined the comm channel. Then another, and another. Soon marines were joining ten at a time, and more were joining.

_We'll experience noticeable slow down,_ Lyn said.

Cameron didn't care.

"Open a channel to the ONI personnel," she said. Lyn complied. "Attention, ONI personnel, you are now engaging SPARTAN forces in combat. Per our rules of engagement, we are now free to defend ourselves with lethal force. Cease all hostile actions, and you will not be targeted."

_This is Colonel Montgomery,_ the channel cracked. _You have four men, all of whom are heavily injured. What the hell can you do?_

"You forgot, one of us isn't injured. Ted, wherever you are, do your thing."

Laughter spammed the ONI channel. Cameron quickly closed it, her skin crawling.

_Now how do you plan on saving our new recruits?_ Lyn asked.

"What's your ETA?"

_Three minutes_.

"And what armaments does the Pelicans have?"

_We're mounted with four gun pods and thirty missiles._

"Head to the spaceport to provide cover fire. We'll get the marines there and steal as many Pelicans we can."

_And how will we load them all up into two prowlers?_

"We'll figure it out," Cameron snapped. She shut down the channel with Lyn so she could concentrate. "All marines who have asked for our help, head to the spaceport. We're getting you a ride off this rock."

* * *

"Why isn't that Spartan dead?" Montgomery demanded. "Why haven't Snyder and his team reported in?"

"Sir, we can't find them on the friend-or-foe scanner," Anna said. Her hands were shaking as she typed at the keyboard.

"Find those tags, dammit! And get more teams on the marines, they're forming up."

"Sir, it is their job to fight a superior enemy…" Anna muttered.

"I don't give a damn what their job is! Those bastards are gonna pay for saving those child slaving monsters!"

Anna looked over her shoulder. Montgomery turned to yell at another ONI agent. Her heart pounding, she quickly typed a message to Director Osman and sent it. She hoped she could stop this before more men were killed. Just thinking about Reece made her want to throw up. Her throat burned, and she wondered why she wasn't throwing up.

"Find that Spartan! He isn't with the rest of the injured ones, he should be easy to surround. And find a way to get him off the channel, he's spamming it with that damn laughter of his!"

* * *

Ted moved quickly, working the blade of the knife. The ONI soldier in his hands screamed and writhed in his hands, and he tingled with pleasure. He had to move faster. Just as he finished with the marine, another group of ONI men walked around the corner.

"Oh my God—!" Ted quickly jumped on the lead soldier, his augmented strength easily pushing the knife through the flak armor.

"Shoot him! Shoot him!" Ted ducked, and a burst of gunfire burst over his head. Instead of hitting him, the shots hit another soldier in the neck. Ted knew he was out of the fight, so he gutted the shooter and took his assault rifle. He turned the gun on the remaining ONI troops, shooting them in the gut. The light seemed to bloom, and his skin and blood sang as they screamed and bled to death.

Laughing, he reloaded and ran to find more men to kill.

* * *

"What's your status, Spartans?" Cameron said.

"I'm barely on my feet," Rabi said, her speech slurring. Cameron grabbed her shoulder as she started to tip to the side. "Don't, I can still fight."

Cameron wanted to tell her that she wasn't; Rabi's face was one giant burn, and the medicine had barely gotten enough time to work before ONI turned on them. She didn't know how Rabi was still conscious, but she had the feeling that if she lost consciousness, she wouldn't wake up again.

"Then hold your rifle tighter," Cameron said. "You almost dropped it with that last clip."

Rabi grunted, Cameron didn't know if it was a laugh, and kept running.

"Steven?"

"I'm doing good," Steven said. "Some wounds opened again, but I'll patch it with bio foam when we get the chance."

"Good," Cameron said. Her stomach was barely stitched up, but she wasn't dead yet, so that counted for something. They ran with marines, who were actually keeping up, thanks to their injuries. "Marine, how far is the spaceport?"

"Just a few hundred meters, ma'am," the soldier said. "What's the plan when we get there?"

"We're going to steal as many ships as we can, then we're getting off this rock."

"And what will we do when we get into space?"

"Then we'll steal an even bigger ship, and jump out of here."

The marine gave her a look, but didn't say anything. For once, Cameron felt good about her plan. It was easy, that much was sure, and very little could go wrong with it. She felt an ache for Bridget, and buried it as deep as she could. Chief Kelly was right; the adrenaline helped.

The spaceport loomed ahead of them. The marines ran in lines, making their numbers seem even larger. The lines broke and divided as ONI defenders opened fire.

"Get to cover!" A sergeant roared. "Did the Corp tell you to lie down and take it like a bitch? Shoot back!"

The marines opened fire on the spaceport. The ONI forces inside the high walls ducked for cover.

"Move, move!" The sergeant yelled, and a group of marines ran forward to enter the port. There was a whine overhead, and Cameron looked up. Lyn and the Pelicans have arrived.

_Lyn, blow a hole open in the wall. We need a faster way to get the soldiers in,_ Cameron ordered. "Marines! Take cover, incoming!"

The marines threw themselves at the ground, and a pair of rockets shot out from the Pelican and hit the thick concrete walls. The shaped, high explosives punched through, blowing open a large hole in the wall.

"Inside," Cameron yelled. The marines got back up and began running inside. Cameron and her Spartans were first through. A group of ONI soldiers were picking themselves off the ground. Cameron made sure they couldn't get back up. "Which way to the ships?"

"This way," a marine said. They were already swarming through the port. All Cameron had to do was follow them.

"Rabi, what's your status?"

"I could use a carry," she said.

"I'm on it," Steven said, wrapping a hand around her shoulder. "Just keep walking, I got you."

"Cover!"

Further inside the port were more ONI personnel. They had set up a turret and were holding a very wide hallway.

"Is there a way to get around them?" Cameron asked a marine.

"No, that's the way to the shuttles."

"Got any grenades?"

The marine handed one to her. Cameron hoped she could throw with her torn up stomach; she'd have one shot at this. She peaked her head around the corner and nearly had it blown off, but she had seen where the turret exactly was.

"Cover fire," she yelled. The marines hesitantly stuck their guns out and took wild shots. The turret stopped for just one second, enough time for Cameron to lean out and let the grenade fly. It landed at the feet of the turret. A second later, it blew up. The marines cheered and surged forward.

"One's alive," someone yelled.

"Save him," Cameron ordered, pushing her way through the crowds. The ONI person in question was covered in blood, but it didn't seem to be his. Cameron grabbed him. "Are there any pilots here?"

"Wh-what?" The soldier gasped, coming around from the blast.

"Pilots! Are there any pilots here?" Cameron demanded. The soldier's eyes widened as he saw who he was talking to.

"They're in the brig," he gasped. Cameron brought her elbow to his head, knocking him out.

"Leave him, we're getting the pilots. Take us to the brig."

"It's this way," a marine said. He led them down a twisted hallway. Cameron realized the hallway was straight, and that her eyesight was going. She shook her head and made herself walk straight.

"Here they are," the marine said.

The pilots were lined up against a wall, their hands and feet bound, rags in their mouths. They tried to call for help, but could only mumble.

"What were they going to do?" A marine hissed.

"It's obvious," Cameron said. "They were going to execute them."

She leaned down, her stomach screaming, and broke the plastic zip ties that held a pilots' arms and legs together. She pulled the rag out of his mouth and helped him stand up.

"You know who we are?" She asked. The pilot nodded, his eyes wide. "We're here to offer you a chance to escape the ONI forces, but you'll have to join us. Do you know what that means?"

The pilot nodded.

"I want you to say it, so you know what you're agreeing to."

"We'll join you," the pilot said, "and you'll take us to your base."

"And?"

"We'll never be allowed to leave."

"You will also have to follow our laws, or face court martial," Cameron said. "That includes providing genetic material for the next generation of Spartans. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"Do you still want to join us?"

"Right now, I'd like not to be shot by ONI."

"If that's your mindset, you'll come to regret it."

"If I regret it, it means I'll get to live longer."

"We'll hold you to your agreement," Cameron said. She turned to the marines. "Free them, then let's get to the ships."

"With all due respect ma'am, we're not rated to help fly the starships," the pilot said.

"We're not taking a starship, we're taking Pelicans and Longswords."

"And how will we get out of orbit?"

"I thought I said how. We're going to steal a ship."

* * *

Serin sat at her desk, fiddling with a stylus. Another Covenant attack. She didn't like this, not one bit.

"Judging from the reports, it was a fragment of a radical group," Adam said. He was flipping through reports, and was not really paying attention to her. All the more concentration he could spare for the reports. "We don't know if it was a small fragment or a large one."

"Let's assume the radicals have more manpower than this," Serin said.

"You know, you could do more with a Smart AI than me," Adam said.

"You can't rely on technology all the time. Then it becomes a crutch, instead of a tool," Serin said. "Besides, I'll miss the chance to order you around."

"That's sadistic."

"It's effective. You're my protégé, you have to learn. And this is the best way."

"The second I'm in charge, I'm getting a Smart AI."

"Don't grow too attached to it, they're only good for about seven years."

"Is that why you never got another Smart AI after Black Box? You grew too attached to it?"

Serin was about to give him a light tongue lashing when her tablet flashed an emergency message.

"Hold that thought," she said, skimming the report. "Oh, what the fuck!"

"What is it?" Adam said, looking up from his desk.

"Goddamn that man!" Serin yelled. "Adam, get me on the fastest ship to Circumstances, and get a team of Spartan-IVs on it, too. One of our men just wen renegade."

"You going to tell me what happened?"

"The Spartans showed up and stalled the invasion, and the marines disobeyed an order to watch them die," Serin said. "Then one Colonel Montgomery decided to kill every marine who disobeyed the order! He's ordered ONI forces to open fire. They're killing dozens of marines."

"Shit, has that man lost his mind?"

"I don't see you putting that ship together," Serin snarled. "I want to be there yesterday!"

* * *

_There are minimal ONI forces inside the spaceport, _Lyn said. She flew the Pelicans above them, the guns firing, making the ONI forces think about keeping their heads down. _Any idea how you will get our new allies off-planet?_

"We're commandeering as many dropships and fighters as we can," Cameron said. She turned to yell at a few marines to get inside a Pelican. "We'll all launch at once, to minimalize the risk of the ships getting shot down one by one. As soon as we're in orbit, we're capturing a ship and jumping out of system."

"And how will you do that?"

"Get Baldwin to commandeer the ship's network, get him to vent the ship's atmo. How many ships do we have?" Cameron asked.

"Fifty Pelicans and twenty-five Longswords," Lyn replied.

"And how full are they?"

"We have all of our new allies aboard."

"Good. Pick us up, we're leaving."

As if on cue, one Pelican that Lyn was piloting spun out of the sky and landed just in front of Cameron. The doors dropped down, and Anna walked out to great her. Her armor was chipped and dented, and she walked with a limp.

"Glad to see you in one piece, Lieutenant," Anna said, saluting.

"I wish more of us could say the same," Cameron said. "What's your status?"

"I lost a leg at the knee, but I've got my armor locked, so I can limp on it. I'll be fine," Anna said. "Just don't ask me to run a marathon."

"I'm sorry," Cameron said.

"It's just a leg. I've already put an order in for a cybernetic one."

"All the same, I didn't want this to happen to you."

Anna looked at Cameron. Her shoulders slumped.

"I know," she said. "I'm sorry to hear about Bridget. She'll be missed."

"Thank you. Have you picked them up?"

"Yes, they're in the other Pelican."

"Good." Cameron turned around. "Get on board, Spartans," she yelled, limping aboard. A few straggling marines joined them. "We're leaving. Ted, last chance to get off planet! Where are you?"

_Hold the phone, I'm coming,_ Ted laughed. Cameron saw him running out of some administrative offices at a dead sprint, his armor caked with blood.

"Start taking off, give him some incentive to get here," she told Lyn. The ship picked up from the ground and was twenty feet high when Ted launched himself into the air, landing gracefully right next to Cameron just as Lyn started to take off to break orbit.

"Didn't know you cared that much about me," he said, walking to an open space. The marines saw him and quickly gave him as wide berth as they could manage under heavy acceleration. It didn't save them from Ted. He grabbed a handhold and rounded on them. "How you guys doing?"

"Ted, play nice," Cameron snapped.

"I'm just being friendly to our new allies, Lieutenant," Ted said. Cameron wanted to yell at him, but she just felt like falling to pieces.

"Lieutenant, your wounds have reopened," Lyn said. Cameron looked down. Her hastily patched up stomach was bleeding through her fractured armor. She cursed and carefully walked to the cockpit.

"Open up, I need to sit down," she said. The door slid open and she crashed down into the copilot's seat. "How are we doing?"

"Our mass evacuation is working, so far," Lyn said.

"And our dead?"

"You've already asked Anna. They've been picked up in the other Pelican."

"Oh. Well, good."

"Regarding our current status, we lost only a few marines in the process, and somehow you and your team didn't work themselves to death."

"It's a start." Cameron pulled out a first aid kit and started slapping self-adhesive gauze pads to her stomach. "How is Baldwin doing with getting our ride out of here?"

"I'm sure he's having fun with being creative."

* * *

Captain Anderson stared out of the bridge of the _Sparrow Hawk_. He couldn't believe what he was seeing.

"They're actually taking all those ships out to orbit?" He said.

"Yes, sir, it appears…"

"Don't answer a rhetorical question, ensign," he told his comms officer. "What does Colonel Montgomery want us to do?"

"Sir, his orders are to shoot them down as soon as they're in weapon's range."

Anderson looked back out of the viewport. The dropships and bombers were just tiny specks in the ocean of space, and they wanted to fly them out here, where there were a dozen UNSC warships waiting for them? What on earth were they thinking?

"Open a channel to them," he said.

"Sir?"

"I don't want to kill our soldiers, son. Those are UNSC personnel down there, and I want to give them a chance to turn themselves in."

"Colonel Montgomery was adamant; he wants all the traitors killed."

"So you would push a button and send those men and women to their deaths?"

The bridge was quiet.

"Sir," his comms officer said. "I'm getting an urgent message from Colonel Montgomery."

"Don't bother," Anderson said. "Weapons, power up our MAC cannon and…arm the Archer missiles, pods A through F."

"Sir," she said, typing at the keys, "I…I don't think I can do that."

"You don't want to shoot at our men?" Anderson said.

"Yes, sir."

"Does anyone else here share her feelings?" Anderson said, turning to look each crewman in the face. "Because I sure do."

"Sir, Colonel Montgomery is pinging us again. Urgent message."

"Shut him down, I'm not talking to him," Anderson said. He'll probably be court martialed for this. "I'm about to disobey a superior's orders. If anyone does not want to join me, feel free to grab an escape pod."

"Perhaps I can help with that," a voice said. The holographic table at the center of the bridge lit up, and Anderson was suddenly looking at a holographic Greek statue.

"What the hell? We don't have an AI on this ship."

"That's because I'm not your AI," the statue said. "My name is Baldwin, and I'm a Smart AI the Spartans developed. I'm working for them."

"Comms, lock our channels down," Anderson said. "Purge our system."

"I wouldn't do that, Captain," Baldwin said. "I've gained access to your ship's systems, and can decompress you at any time."

Warming lights flashed and decompression alarms blared on the bridge for a second. They quickly went out.

"Sir, I'm locked out of our systems," his comms officer said.

"I'm here to offer you a solution to your conundrum," the AI said. "You don't want to shoot down the marines? That is understandable. Give the order to abandon ship; you won't have to kill any marines, and the Spartans will get a chance to escape."

"Why would I do that?" Anderson said.

"Like I said, I can decompress the ship at a moment's notice," Baldwin said. "When you get court martialed, tell the tribunal that you were forced to act to save the lives of your men. No military court outside of a dictatorship could blame you for your actions. You'll be looking at minimal jail time, and everyone gets to live."

Anderson smiled.

"They don't call you Smart AIs for nothing, do they?" He said.

"I do my best, sir," Baldwin said, smiling.

"Then do me a favor and give the order to abandon ship," he said. Alarms quickly blared. "Alright, people, get to an escape pod, unless you like sucking hard vacuum."

The crew jumped to the tasks with more enthusiasm than they had for attacking the marines.

"Oh, and Baldwin," Anderson said.

"Yes, sir?"

"Aside from giving my best to your commander, the reactor tends to run a little hot when you push the MAC cannons to charge."

"I'll make a note of it, sir. Thank you for your cooperation."

* * *

"We have a ship," Lyn said. Cameron's vision spun as she clamped down on her bleeding stomach.

"Good," she gasped. "What is it?"

"The _Sparrow Hawk_. Baldwin was able to infiltrate their wireless networks and seize control of the ship, although the crew was willing to not fire upon us. They donated it to our cause."

"Get us there," Cameron gasped.

"I've already marked it as the waypoint. Everyone is following us."

"Are any other ships going to fire at us?"

"A few, and they're moving into position, but it will be too late by then. We'll be aboard, and as soon as the last ship has docked, we're jumping out of the system. Baldwin is already charging the Slipspace capacitors."

Cameron reached for another gauze pad. In microgravity, they floated in front of her, along with a few pads that were bloodstained and had slipped away from her. She reached out to catch a few; she didn't want to leave a mess in the cockpit.

She wondered where Bridget was, she needed her help right now. Then Cameron remembered that Bridget was in an ammo pouch at her hip. She needed to rest, needed some time to mourn her loss. What would she tell Roc and Alice?

"Cameron!"

She jerked awake. Lyn's holographic avatar was staring at her, pulling at her dress in a death grip. She actually looked genuinely distressed.

"You're scaring me, Cameron," Lyn said. "Your armor is saying your blood pressure is extremely low."

"I'm not too good right now," Cameron said.

"Cameron? You're mumbling," Lyn said. "Cameron?"

She tried to look at the green avatar, but her vision swam and went black.

* * *

Colonel Montgomery stared at the screen in the administrative office. Those fucking Spartans, they actually ran away, and took with them over a thousand traitorous marines. He grit his teeth. He'll need access to more of ONI's resources if he wanted to track them down. He was sure the _Sparrow Hawk_ had left some kind of way to follow it, they just had to find it.

"Still nothing inbound?" He asked Anna, his aide.

"No UNSC ships have entered, yet," she mumbled.

"Speak up, I can barely hear you," Montgomery snapped. Anna flinched, but nodded her head.

"They'd better get in system quickly. The longer we sit around, the further and further those Spartans get away from us," he said. "Have we heard back from the _Cherub_?"

"Not yet, they're probably still trying to follow the Spartans," Sarah said.

Montgomery sighed. He'd been up for over thirty hours, keeping the planet together after the Covenant assault and the Spartan's timely arrival. He needed some sleep, and he needed to reread his report. He was sure Director Osman would find it very interesting reading. Maybe they could finally get serious on combating the Spartans.

"Sir, ships dropping out of Slipspace," Anna said. "Human and Covenant."

"Open a channel with them, find out what those Covenant ships are doing here," he said. Looks like his sleep would have to wait some more.

"I'm getting a standard reply, sir," Anna said. "It's ordering us to stand down and let the UNSC and Covenant allies secure the planet."

"So they're the Arbiter's people, huh?" Montgomery said. "About time they took responsibility for their rogue fellows. Can I get an actual channel with them, instead of a text response?"

"I've been trying, sir, but they're ignoring us," Anna said. She typed at her keyboard. "It appears that they're moving into a blockade maneuver."

"What?"

"They're locking us on the planet."

"I know what it means, but why?"

"Hard to say, sir."

From outside the spaceport's offices, there were thunderous crashes.

"What the hell was that?" Montgomery demanded.

"Drop pods, sir," one of the ONI team members said. "Someone just jumped right outside our door."

"They sure move when they want to," Montgomery said. "Let's go out and greet them."

The doors to the office exploded with a shaped charge. The shockwave pushed Montgomery to the ground. His ears rang, but he could hear the heavy armored boots of Spartan-IVs pounding into the office.

"Clear!" Someone shouted. Montgomery was roughly grabbed and forced to the ground. "Target secure!"

"What is wrong with you people?" Montgomery demanded.

"My men are the least of your concerns, _Colonel_." Montgomery's blood ran cold as he saw Director Osman walking into the room.

"D-director, what are you doing here?" He said.

"Cleaning up your fucking mess, that's what," she snarled. She reached down and hauled Montgomery up by the lapels. "What, in God's good name, the fuck were you _thinking_, turning your men on those marines?"

"Those marines were traitorous," he gasped. "They were assisting an enemy."

"Traitorous? _Traitorous?_" Osman bellowed. "You disobeyed my order, an order put in place to prevent this very thing! You broke that rule, _and_ you killed UNSC marines! How does that strike you as traitorous?"

"T-the Spartan-V program is a monstrosity, and must be fought. You can't ally yourselves with child soldiers…"

"Unless you forgot, shit-for-brains, _I'm_ a child soldier," Osman said. "I was put through boot when I was six years old! And you've been taking orders from me since you enlisted! Now, do you know _why_ I passed the order to not kill any marines who defected?"

"So there wouldn't be a conflict of interests when the Spartans came to help," he recited.

"Pretty good for an official reason, right?" Osman said. "You know the not-so-official reason?"

"No."

"Maybe if you did your reading and goddamn homework you would know," Osman snapped. "The Spartans can't operate for very long because they don't have the genetic diversity for it. That's why they want the marines to donate their genetic materials, so they could make the next generation more genetically viable."

"What?"

"You stupid to? And don't answer that, I'm not in the mood for it. A small population can't survive because there isn't enough genetic material for prolonged reproduction; sooner or later, everyone is a cousin or a brother and sister, and nothing good comes from fuckin' your siblings. Sooner or later, in a generation or two, the Spartans would have to surrender because they simply won't have the genetics for it anymore.

"Guess what you just did? You just gave them over a thousand perfectly healthy, genetically varied marines. _Over a thousand_. That means that the Spartans can keep functioning for several more generations without running the risk of inbreeding. Hell, they've probably got the population size to become an actual self-sustaining colony. This colossal, planetary-sized _fuck up_ you just committed gave the Spartans all the people they need to create a goddamn society! Do you realize what you did now?!"

Osman shook Montgomery, who stayed silent. She turned to Anna.

"It looks like Colonel Montgomery was unfortunately killed when he ordered ONI soldiers to fire upon UNSC marines. Please mark his death as happening somewhere twelve hours ago."

"Ma'am," Anna stuttered.

"You know what that means?" Osman said, returning her gaze to Montgomery. "I just wished you away to the fucking cornfield. You're a nobody now, and I'm going to throw you into a deeper, darker hole than I threw Halsey into, because you fucked me over real good with this one, and I'm going to return the favor to you. Welcome to the rest of your miserable crap-sack life." She shoved him into the hands of a Spartan-IV. "Get him out of here."

"Wait! No! I only wanted the best for the UNSC!" Montgomery said. The Spartan punched him in the gut, and he went quiet as he was dragged out. Osman stood and took a deep breath.

"Ma'am, I wanted to resist Montgomery's order," Anna began, "but I couldn't, not without…"

"It's okay," Osman said. Now that she wasn't screaming, she sounded at peace with everything. Anna was amazed how quickly she regained her composure. "You informed me of your superior's actions, while putting your own life at risk. You did nothing wrong."

"Still, I think I could have resisted, delayed an order or a contradicting one."

"Only idiots fight when they know they can't win," Osman said. "You did the right thing by telling me. I'm glad. Of course, with the demise of poor, poor Colonel Montgomery, I have a position vacant. Would you like it?"

"Yes, ma'am!"

"It's yours." Osman fixed her with a cheerful grin. "Just don't do anything as stupid as Montgomery did, or he might find himself with company."

"I wouldn't dream of it, ma'am," Anna smiled. She hid her shaking hands behind her back.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Beep. Beep. Beep. Cameron groaned. The damn beeping was making the ants crawl. They danced across her skin in time with the beeping. Beep. Beep. Beep. She couldn't take it anymore. She swatted, trying to hit whatever was making that infernal sound.

"Mom. Mom. Mom!" A hand was grabbing at her. Adrenaline shot through her system and she bolted upright. Dots of pain on her arms and chest made her grunt.

"Mom, calm down." Cameron gasped. Rock was grabbing her arm, Alice nearby. When did they get that old? Their hair was shaved, and they looked gaunt.

"What? Where am I?" She said.

"You're home, mom. You're on Sparta," Alice said.

Cameron looked around. It was a hospital. She was in a hospital bed, and she was trying to hit the heart monitor and EEG machine that sat near her head.

"Stop, you pulled out a couple of needles," Alice said. She walked to her side and put some cheap tissues to her arm, which were prickled with blood. Cameron looked at her arm, then her stomach.

Her stomach was completely covered in gauze. Numerous tubes ran into and out of her gut. She remembered the needles digging into her, blowing her open. There wasn't any blood, new or dried, on the gauze, just sterile whiteness.

"Thank you. W-what happened?"

"We're in training," Rock said, letting go of her arm. "Don't you remember? We sent you a vid."

"No, I don't. I'm sorry, it's just…"

"You said you would tell us how to get through boot," Alice said.

"Damn, yes, I remember that now."

"Mom, where's other mom?" Rock asked. "Where's Bridget? She didn't come back."

Cameron stared at Rock. He stared back.

"Mom?" Alice asked.

Cameron stared at Alice. She stared back. The machine beeped. Beep. Beep. Beep. Cameron broke her gaze and looked down at the thin hospital sheet.

Rock didn't say anything.

Alice didn't say anything.

They stayed longer, then Rock left. Alice followed him. Cameron watched the sheet as they left. She waited until the door was closed. She waited until they were down the hall, in the elevator, and out of the hospital before she let herself cry.

She ran from it for years, but she couldn't deny it anymore. She was the Attrition Queen, and the Queen didn't cry in front of anyone.

* * *

The intercom on Fred's desk buzzed. He groaned, setting the data slate down and answered it.

"Yes?"

"General Fredrick, we have a problem."

A flicker of annoyance, old and half-hearted, licked at him.

"You know what to call me, Sydney."

"Yes sir, Fred. Sorry," his secretary said. "We have a problem with the new marine troops."

"What is it?"

"They're staging a protest outside their living quarters. They say they won't provide genetic material, sir."

"Do they realize the conditions they agreed to?" Fred groaned. This dance was getting old, quick.

"I would imagine so, sir, but they're adamant."

"Do they have a leader?"

"Yes sir."

"Then let's arrange for some talks."

"Understood sir. Shall I send for him?"

"No, I'll go meet with him," Fred said. "Make him feel more comfortable having me on his turf."

"Is that wise, sir?"

"They're not stupid, Corporal. They won't do anything rash."

"Just looking out for you, sir."

"Thank you." Fred clicked off the intercom. Desk job. Desk work. And now, negotiations. Never in his life did he think it would come to this. He wished he asked Mendez for more pointers before he passed. He picked up the data slate and dialed a number.

"Yes, sir?" Kelly said, answering just before the second ring. How did she stay so fast?

"Have you heard about the Marine protest?"

"Kind of hard to miss," she said.

"I'm going there to negotiate. Will you come with?"

"I'm already there," Kelly said. "Shift got called in to work security, make sure nothing happens."

"Great. I'll be there in ten."

"Wilco. Out."

Fred ended the call and dialed another number.

"Yes?" Linda said. She answered on the third ring.

"You heard about the protest?"

"Who hasn't?"

"I'm going to negotiate. I'm bringing Kelly, I'd like you to be there, too."

"With all due respect, what for?"

"As loathe as I am to admit it, we're known for being the founding members of Sparta," Fred said, annoyance creeping into his voice. "If all three of us show up, it'll show that we're taking them seriously."

"Good call," Linda said. "I'll be there in seven."

"See you there." Fred hung up. He'd better get a move on.

"Hold anything that needs my signature," he told Sydney as he left his office.

"Yes, sir. Good luck, sir," she said, standing to salute. Fred gave a quick salute back and headed on his way. Then he stopped and turned around.

"On second thought, you have my desk until I come back," he said.

"Sir?" Sydney asked.

"You're organized, thoughtful and quick to act. I think I underestimated your abilities as a leader," Fred said. "Give running Sparta a shot."

"I don't think I have the training, sir," Sydney said.

"Neither did I," Fred said. "If it makes you feel any better, it'll only be for an hour or two. Any screw-up can be easily fixed."

"Thank you for the vote of confidence, sir," Sydney said, saluting again. Fred held a grin and saluted back. She could be snarky when she wanted to.

He walked out the administrative building and along the parade ground. The summer was in full swing, and would stay that way for at least three more months. The longer orbit was slowly becoming normal to him. Staying in one place for more than a year was starting to become normal as well, but it still felt strange. He looked at the statue of John in the parade ground. He hoped that no one would make him a statue when he was gone.

The marine's new living quarters were quickly being built. They were styled after apartment buildings, as all civilian living quarters were. They rose up five stories tall, and had scaffolding for the yet to be finished sixth and seventh floors. Work was coming along nicely, in another week or so they should be finished, but with the protest, work had ground to a halt.

The marines in question were standing outside their soon-to-be-finished barracks. Many held signs, and a few more shouted, but it was a peaceful affair, as far as protests went. Three light squads of MPs stood around them, weapons holstered. Fred walked up to the ranking officer.

"Kelly," he said.

"Glad to see you here," Kelly said. The other Spartans saluted, but she didn't. Fred was glad. "Doesn't look like they're getting rowdy, but throw in some contraband alcohol, and who knows."

"We'll crack down on the distilleries later," Fred said. "Let's solve this problem first."

"Did I miss anything?" Linda asked, walking up.

"Just me getting here," Fred said. "We're going to talk with them, on their own turf. Ready?"

"Hell, it'll be nice to get a little action here," Kelly said. Fred walked to the marines, Kelly and Linda flanking him.

"Who here is in charge?" Fred asked, yelling to be heard.

"I am." A marine walked up to Fred. He was tall and lanky, with piercing eyes and a determined mouth. He struck Fred as a natural leader. "Andrew Ramsey."

"Nice to meet you, Ramsey," Fred said, saluting him. Ramsey offered his hand instead. Fred shook it. "I assume you know who I am?"

"You're the Spartan that runs this joint," he said.

"Yes," Fred said. As usual, he couldn't keep annoyance out of his voice. Dammit, did he hate his job. "Do you have a place for us to talk?"

"You're not dragging me to your place?" Ramsey asked, his eyes wrinkling in confusion.

"No, I'm not."

"Okay then. We can talk in our temporary housing." He recovered quickly. He led Fred, Kelly and Linda through the crowd, which quickly parted for them. They soon came to their temporary barracks, scavenged UNSC tents.

"Do you mind if I bring some people with me?" Ramsey asked, looking at Kelly and Linda.

"I don't," Fred said. Ramsey called for a few marines to come with him. They quickly appeared by his side, a woman almost as tall as him and a man much shorter. They walked into the tent, which was piled high with temporary bunks, cheap folding tables and chairs. Ramsey picked one table out and sat down, which everyone followed suit with. Fred noticed that he took a chair at the far end of the table, then realized he took the only one that didn't wobble.

"Thank you for coming to talk with me," Ramsey said.

"You're welcome," Fred said.

"It's a little surprising when a Spartan comes to talk, but it is welcomed."

"The last thing we want on our hands is a violent outbreak," Fred said. "Talking is much better."

"I agree."

"If you'll excuse me, the Navy didn't train us to delegate, so would you mind if we got down to it?" Fred asked.

"Sure thing," Ramsey said, shrugging. "Not much else to talk about anyways."

"You say that you don't want to provide genetic material for the next generation of Spartans," Fred said.

"Goddamn right we don't. We'll raise our kids our own way, if we decide to have kids."

"You agreed to two agreements when you were rescued from Circumstances; to never return to the UNSC so long as we're branded as outlaws and to provide genetic material. Why are you going back on your agreement?"

"Giving someone an out during a slaughter is not a negotiation," Ramsey said. "If we disagreed, we would die. How is that fair?"

"You were told, multiple times, what that meant."

"Again, how is that fair? That's like offering a man dying of thirst a glass of water on the condition that he give you his kidney. Of course he'll agree to it, he's dying."

"I'm sorry to tell you this, but you can't go back on your word. Providing genetic material is non-negotiable."

"We're making it negotiable, General." Fred inwardly groaned.

"I'd greatly appreciate it if you just called me Fred."

"A general who doesn't like his rank?" Ramsey grinned.

"It's not the time or place for me to explain it," Fred said. "Please, stick to what's at hand."

"Sure thing, _General_ Fred."

Fred sighed.

"We ask that you voluntary donate the material," he said, "we could easily take it from you by force, but we don't want it to come to that."

"Well, thank you for deciding to be civil," Ramsey said. "But we don't want our kids to be put through some kind of twisted daycare torture for your amusement."

"Trust me when I say that it is not for our amusement."

"That's not how you get your kicks, General Fred?" Ramsey grinned. "Growing your own army, playing some kind of twisted version of God?"

"Please, let's stay on track here," Fred sighed.

"Sure thing. You won't be taking our 'genetic material' from us. Not now, not ever."

"Even though that will be going against your promise to?"

"You know how I feel about that bullshit agreement you gave us," Ramsey said.

"Then we will have to arrest you and all marines who are protesting. You will be giving a fair trial, and-"

"You can't," Ramsey said.

"Excuse me?"

"You can't arrest all of us. There are over six hundred marines who are protesting."

"You're resisting arrest?" Fred asked. "We have armed MPs. I would not recommend it."

"We have our own armaments," Ramsey said. "The weapons we brought from Circumstances. Sure, we're not as well armed as you are, as well trained, or have as fancy armor, but you don't argue with over six hundred guns now, do you? How many Spartans do you have?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"How many troops do you have?" Ramsey repeated. "There's gotta be twenty trainers running those poor kids into the ground out there, and twenty workers that we see, and fifteen MPs, and God knows how many Spartans out on patrol, meaning they're away from the nest. That's fifty-five Spartans and a hundred and fifty kids, and they don't look like they can hold a rifle."

"You'd be surprised," Kelly said. Fred gave her a hard look.

"So what's it going to be? Fifty-five Spartans and a hundred and fifty kids against six hundred some-odd marines?" Ramsey said.

"Are you threatening me?" Fred asked.

"No, I'm telling you that you will not threaten us with taking our genetic material," Ramsey said. His two lackeys were smiling. "We're going to do what we want with it, and if we decide to have kids, they won't be Spartan kids."

Ramsey leaned back in his chair. Fred had to admit, he had the ability to threaten him. They really had seventy Spartans on base, but he wasn't going to let Ramsey know that. Still, seventy Spartans against at least six hundred marines was a bit lopsided. If they had accurate intel on the marines, their armaments and ammunition, they might be able to put up a good fight. But there were too many unknowns, such as where the marines were hiding all that extra manpower, where they planned to move, how they planned to attack.

And even then, it would be killing humans, something Fred hoped to never do again.

"Very well," he said. Ramsey grinned. "I just have one question: what shall I tell the next colony that gets attacked?"

"What?"

"We both know that radical Covenant groups will continue to attack the UNSC. Their only intention is going to be to murder humans, and we won't be able to defend them," Fred said. "You said it yourself, we don't have the manpower. So when another assault group drops out of Slipspace and lands on a colonized planet and begins butchering humans, what shall I tell them? That we would like to help them, but don't have the troops to spare?"

"That's fucking bullshit," Ramsey said. "You'd help them even if one human life was on the line."

"I would," Fred said. "At least, I would like to. But you should know that we lost a lot of Spartans defending Circumstances. Forty-five, to be precise. That's almost one-third of our standing army. An entire third. We don't have the manpower for such engagements, so that means we would have to pick which colony to protect, and which colony to let be pillaged and burned."

"So you'll sit back and let the smaller colonies be slaughtered?" Ramsey said, staring at Fred with undisguised hatred.

"It's the way it has to be," Fred said, shrugging. "We need at least seven more years to properly train and outfit our newest generation, and even then, we would only be getting a hundred and fifty new troops, hardly the numbers we need to fight wars, and Circumstance was an act of war. Trust me, if the Human-Covenant War was still going on, having thirty warships drop into orbit would count as a major enemy offensive, something that would open a new theater of war and would put the whole UNSC on high alert. Just how many lives did our Spartans save? Do you know?"

"At least two billion," Ramsey said, his teeth clenched.

"And how fast did the Covenant tear through the UNSC defenses?"

"Do you have a point, general?" Fred didn't detect the slightest hint of sarcasm when he mentioned his rank.

"Would you have liked it if we told the colony of Circumstance that we couldn't help them because we didn't have the manpower to fight such a war? Because that is what it would come down to; more human lives lost because we don't have the numbers to fight. That is why we need your genetic material, to make Spartans, who would fight to save human lives.

"You said that we might 'get our kicks' from growing our own army. Let me tell you, I don't like it. When we were still part of the UNSC, and I heard that ONI wanted to shut us down, I was going to let them. Yes, let them. But my team believed that we could do more good on our own than under the rule of ONI. So we voted. And we voted to run. We voted to make our own way of life, and protect the UNSC how we saw fit. And seeing how many lives we saved the past month, I'd say we're doing a pretty damn good job of it."

Ramsey and his lackey glared at Fred. He ignored them.

"Do you know where I am coming from now?" He asked.

"Yes, I do," Ramsey said.

"Can you understand why we want the genetic material of you and your marines?"

"Yea, I get it. But we still won't let you."

"Why is that?"

"Because you're taking all the pain and suffering of humans being killed, who might be killed in the future, and placing it on the shoulders of little children," Ramsey said. "That's sick, twisted and wrong. We won't let that happen to a single child, dammit. Not one."

"It can't be done any other way," Fred said.

"What about the Spartans the UNSC has? The Spartan-IVs?"

"What _about_ them?" Kelly asked.

"Kelly, play nice," Fred said. "Call them what you will, but they're not super soldiers. Not by our standards. We're faster than them, stronger and tougher, too. We can beat them in any contest you can think of, and if we can beat them, the Covenant can beat them."

"But they're stronger than us," Ramsey said. "And we can train more Spartan-IVs than you can train Spartan-Vs."

"And you trade that quality for quantity," Fred said. "Yes, they're strong and fast and tough, but they still can't fight the Covenant as we can fight them. They just become expensive marines, more of use in numbers than as elite commandos."

"What you're doing is still wrong."

"I'm not fighting you on that; what we're doing is certainly in the moral gray zone, to put it mildly. But it has to be done."

"You're sick," Ramsey said. Fred looked back at him. Ramsey met his gaze and held it.

"Let me as you this," Fred said. "You said that we're taking all the pain and suffering of humans that have been killed, are going to be killed, and putting it on the shoulders of a few children. Wouldn't that be better to have that child suffer for those people, to save them from their suffering? One child would take all the suffering for thousands of people, letting them live perfect lives. Wouldn't that be better than having all those people suffer and die horrible deaths?"

"If it comes to that, then we've already lost," Ramsey said.

"Then we lost a long time ago. Remember, we're the original Spartans," Fred said. "This is the only way for humanity to survive."

Ramsey snorted.

"Spartans _are_ a necessity," Fred said. "If we were not needed, then twenty-three billion lives would not have been lost during the Human-Covenant War. We were needed then, and if the battle at Circumstances was any indication, we are still needed now."

"So that justifies your widespread use of eugenics and child soldiers?" Ramsey demanded. "If we have to resort to such flagrant abuse of human rights, isn't that proof that we've already lost?"

"If humanity as a whole survives long enough to have such a discussion, isn't that proof that we made the right decision?" Fred countered. "Actions taken under extreme duress will always be questioned, even regretted. If a man is trapped under a boulder and is forced to cut off his arm to survive, he would still regret it. But the act of regret means that the action paid off; it means you survived long enough to thoughtfully question the action, instead of dying from a lack of action."

"You're trying to justify the use of evil sciences," Ramsey yelled.

"Science cannot be evil. It can be used for questionable ends, I will agree with that, but it is never evil in and of itself."

"You're twisting words and ideas to fit your agenda," Ramsey spat.

"I'm not doing anything of the sort," Fred said.

"Bullshit you are. You're trying to justify it as a lesser of two evils. Eugenics and child soldiers are the most evil things humanity could have ever come up with."

"For the sake of the argument, I will agree with you," Fred said. "Now, which evil would you rather suffer: eugenics or our own personal genocide? Because there are members of the Covenant that think twenty-three billion human casualties is a good start. In fact, I'd put those radical numbers in the far majority, since the Arbiter's command is dwarfed by the sheer number of radicals. They will not rest until we are exterminated, crushed underfoot like a bug. You saw it at Circumstances, you will see it again."

"It doesn't matter, the lesser of two evils is still evil."

"I will agree with you on that regard. But it is an evil we can survive, therefore we must take it."

"You're unbelievable," Ramsey said.

"I could say the same about you," Fred said. "You're refusing to see reason. Spartans are needed to safeguard humanity."

"And you're a sick motherfucker who will use his own children as living weapons."

"Damn right I'll use my children," Fred said. "I've been using my own children since the SPARTAN-V program. I lost half of my children when ONI forced us to use candidates, no, children who did not conform to the genetic standard. They died, Ramsey, one hundred and fifty of them, and there wasn't anything I could do about it. I will do anything in my power to make sure nothing like that butchery will happen again. That is why we are needed to make Spartans; anyone else would get it wrong."

"So you continue the program, instead of letting them lead happy, healthy lives, free to choose for themselves what to do?" Ramsey said.

"It's the only thing I can do. If it was not for my children, two billion more children would have been slaughtered. Have you seen what Jackals do to human children? They don't eat them like regular adults. They roast them. They run them through with a meter long piece of metal and roast them over a fire like a kebab. Now look me in the eyes and tell me that one child's suffering is not worth avoiding that fate."

Ramsey met his stare. He held it longer than anyone Fred ever knew.

"You really can just rationalize all of that away," Ramsey finally said.

"Someone has to make the hard calls to protect humanity," Fred said.

"And let me guess: we can't count on the Arbiter to help us?"

"Of course we can't," Fred said. "The Arbiter can control the Covenant as well as we can control the entirety of humanity, and that isn't much. It's the radicals we're at war with, and I will die before I let them have their way with the remaining twenty-three billion human lives."

"Yea, yea."

"Can I trust you to find a way to tell them without this becoming a riot?"

"We're still not giving you our genetic material," Ramsey said.

"Then we're going to have a problem," Fred said. "Let them know why we want their material. Tell them all about our discussion so they can see our reasons. We will give you two weeks to peacefully cooperate, otherwise we will arrest you for violating our agreement."

"You'd seriously try that?"

"Of course. We need to continue the SPARTAN project. Thank you for agreeing to talk, it has been most civil. If you need anything else, or want to talk again, let us know."

Ramsey and his lackeys stared at Fred, Kelly and Linda as they stood up.

"Hold on," Ramsey stammered. "Couple of things before you leave."

"Yes?"

"This whole no-alcohol thing has got to go," he said.

"You mean the distilleries?"

"Yea. Let us have our booze."

"It's a poison, you know."

"Like you said, 'it's an evil we can survive.' Besides, there are some marines that are donating their 'genetic material' to you, and they're gonna need to get real drunk to make up for it."

Fred looked outside to where the training grounds were. He squinted his eyes; the children were running again, his children.

"I think I understand what you mean," he said. "But we can't be having drunken, disorderly marines on our base."

"Get ready to be disappointed."

"Keep it to a minimum," Fred said.

"We'll take care of our own," Ramsey said. "Oh, and a few crazy sons a bitches want to volunteer, something other than farm and construction work."

"If we're going to let you brew your own alcohol, we'll need more MPs."

"Sounds good. Hope they like being the party crashers."

Fred got up, followed by Kelly and Linda. They turned to leave.

"One last question," Ramsey said.

"Yes?"

"What would you do if the war ended?"

"Sorry?"

"What would you do, if the war ended?" Ramsey repeated.

"That's not going to happen in our lifetimes," Fred said.

"Hypothetically. If we hear from the UNSC that all hostile Covenant forces were killed with no one left to replace them, just the Arbiter's peaceful, coexisting buddies left, what would you do?"

Fred thought for a minute, then shrugged.

"Guess I'd better find some good hobbies, because my retirement is long overdue."

Fred walked out of the tent, Linda and Kelly following him. He waited a few moments before speaking, making sure they weren't being followed.

"Recall all of the Spartans on active duty," he said.

"All of them?" Kelly asked.

"Yes."

"Many are still engaging small Covenant strike forces," Linda said.

"Then tell them to wrap things up in a hurry. They have two weeks to return to Sparta."

"We're forcing the marines to surrender their genetic material, then." There wasn't any surprise in Kelly's voice.

"They might be marines, but they have the numerical advantage," Linda said.

"I'm fully aware of their advantages and our disadvantages," Fred said.

"Then you know that this could very well break us," Kelly said.

"It's something we have to do. We don't have enough genetic material for many more generations of Spartans, not before we run into inbreeding. We need this; humanity needs this."

"Then let's get the word out," Kelly said. "We're going to have one hell of a party."

* * *

Lucy opened the door to the hospital room. Her heart was pounding, and not from leading the excises for the children. The hospital's air conditioning was cold on her skin, evaporating the sweat from the last five mile run of the day. She took a deep breath to calm her pulse, but it didn't help.

"Hello," she said.

"Good evening, chief," Cameron said. She was propped up on her hospital bed, and saluted. Lucy returned the salute. Machines beeped as Cameron leaned back in the bed.

"You doing?" She asked. Talking was still tough for her, no matter how she tried.

"I'm doing well," Cameron said. She gestured down to the tubes that ran into and out of her stomach cavity. "I would like it if we could flash clone my new intestines faster, but that's wishful thinking."

"It is," Lucy agreed. "Doing well?"

"If I went into surgery in the next day, I could be back on my feet in a week or two."

"No, you doing well?" Lucy asked. She looked Cameron in the eyes. She might not talk much, or very well, but she had to get her point across.

Cameron paused before answering.

"I'm doing fine," she said.

"You're not." It was in her eyes. Lucy hasn't seen that look in anyone's eyes, let alone Cameron, since the augmentation surgeries that wiped our half of the Spartan's numbers.

"I am," Cameron snapped. "I'll be back on my feet soon, and assume command of a new squad."

"Not okay," Lucy sighed. "I know. Been there. You need help."

"I'll be fine," Cameron hissed. "I'm alive, and I know what I am and how I can win again. I won't let something like this happen again."

"Command new platoons?" Lucy asked, staring right back at her.

Cameron opened her mouth, but quickly closed it. Her hand went to her hair and began brushing it out of the way.

"I'll serve Sparta High Command to the best of my abilities," she finally said.

"Brushing hair."

Her hands fell to her side in a blur of motion. Cameron burned with embarrassment.

"Thank you," she said through clenched teeth.

"Not your fault."

Cameron looked away.

"Need you," Lucy said. "All of us. Too few for war, need all we can."

"I know I'm needed," Cameron snapped. "If I could get back on my feet any faster..."

"Not making you better," Lucy said, cutting her off. "Need to talk. About mission, about losses."

"I don't need to talk."

"End up like me," Lucy said.

"You can still serve," Cameron said.

"No. Broken. Can't be fixed."

"You've trained us!"

"And only trained. Can't fight. Can't shoot. Can't plan." Lucy sat down next to Cameron. "Every night, see the battle. My last battle. Death, dying and pain. Misery. Almost died, but didn't. Hated myself for that. But how could I tell I'm alive? Depression. Should have talked to Tom. Tried to talk to Tom. Couldn't find words, couldn't make myself talk. Too little, too late." She looked at Cameron. She was playing with her hair again. Lucy let her. "You need to talk. Can't hold in forever. I know. I tried. I failed. Always fail in end. Trust me."

Cameron blinked back tears.

"Let it, need to get better," Lucy said.

"I can't," Cameron mumbled.

"Why not?"

"Because the Attrition Queen never cried," Cameron said. "Even when I wanted to, she couldn't. I never wanted to be her. Never." Her hand tore through her hair, brushing it madly.

"Hair," Lucy said. Cameron stopped, and punched the bed. A brace under the bed gave way.

"She used to do that," she cried, trying to hold back tears.

"Who?"

"Bridget." Cameron broke down. Lucy grabbed her hand and let her. She hated Cameron. She wished Tom could have talked to her all those years ago, to get her to open up. But he didn't. He simmered in hate while she wasted in silence.

Lucy couldn't let it happen to Cameron. She was one of the best technicians, and they needed her.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

The Pelican hit the atmosphere belly first, to best absorb the heat generated by atmospheric re-entry. The Spartans on board bent their knees, the joints and armor taking the staccato jolts. Soon the rumbling stopped, and the Pelican righted itself and flew down to the surface of the planet.

"Inbound on Sparta," the pilot said. "Landing in ten minutes." The Spartans held onto the drop ship's handholds as the ship plunged towards the planet. No words were said, just a tense silence. The minutes ticked by as the Pelican came in for its landing. It broke off its decent and came in for a smooth landing. The doors opened and the Spartans jumped out, the pilots were the last as they waited for the engines to cycle down. There was a small committee of Spartans waiting for them.

"Welcome home," Tom said.

"General Tom." The returning Spartans saluted.

"How were the Covenant?"

"Stubborn. They mounted five assaults on the colony, taking heavy losses with each attack. We killed them all on the last assault."

"Good," Tom said. He did his best to keep the grin from his face. Covenant bastards got what they deserved. "And our casualties?"

"A few burns, a few broken bones, nothing major. It was a small attack group, barely ten Elites among them."

"Even better. Report to High Command, we have some problems on the home front."

"Yes, sir." The Spartans saluted and jogged off to a line of waiting modified Warthogs, built to ferry troops.

"Sir," Tom's assistant said, "we should get back to Sparta. General Fred would be expecting us."

"Give me a second, lieutenant," Tom said, watching the sun travel across the sky. "Never would have expected us to be fighting humans in our lifetimes. We leave that to the USNC."

"Sir?"

"Are you looking forward to fighting the marines?"

"Sir, the marines have three days left to surrender to us."

"You're dodging the question."

His lieutenant paused.

"No, sir, I'm not."

"No one is," Tom said. "Well, no one who is sane."

"Sir, we don't talk about Ted."

"A necessary evil, I know. But still…I never thought it would come to this. We don't even have the benefit of calling them Insurrectionists."

"One wonders how the UNSC does it."

"They're different, they're all stock humans."

"Sir, I'm sure that General Fred would—"

"You know he hates his voted upon rank."

"Yes, sir, I do. It's not important."

Tom stood watching the skies.

"Sir, they're waiting for us."

"Then let's get going," Tom said, walking back to his own Warthog. "And let's hope that the marines see some reason to this."

* * *

"This is bullshit," a marine yelled.

"Shut up," Ramsey demanded.

"Or what?" The marine said.

"Shut up or I'll send you to the brig to sober up," Ramsey roared. The marines surrounding him in the mess tent glared at him. "We're going to resist them, dammit. We all know what would happen to our children if we don't."

"And what, we'll fight Spartans?" Another marine said.

"They won't fight us," Ramsey said. "They won't fight humans, they only fight Covenant. We're in the right here, we all know it. Child soldiers? That's sick and wrong."

"We heard you the first time," someone yelled.

"Then why are we getting cold feet?" Ramsey yelled. "Why are we acting like some scared, spoiled kid on his first day of boot? Huh?"

The marines were uncharacteristically quiet. People picked at their food, not doing much eating.

"We need to show them that we're in charge of ourselves," Ramsey said. "We need to show them that we're not going to be pushed around."

"Oh, shut up," a marine said.

"Who said that?" Ramsey demanded.

"I did," Brown said. She stood up, not much taller than a sitting marine. "I said it, and I think you're a spoiled ass rich kid. Not used to getting what you want? Pitch a bitch fit, you'll kick up enough of a fuss people _have _to give you your way!"

"What the fuck do you mean?"

"I mean you want the Spartans to do everything for you," Brown said. "You want them to do all the dirty work while you just lounge around, jerking off like a bunch of artsy-fartsy college kids!"

"The Spartans want our children to turn into soldiers."

"So?" Brown said. "If it wasn't for these child soldiers, I'd have been curb stomped by some Brute. We can't fight the Covenant, we need them."

"So you would sell your unborn child to these…monsters?"

"I would, and I am," Brown said. "At least my kid would be able to do something. All my life, I wanted to help kick the Covenant in whatever gonads they have, but I'm too short, not fast enough, not smart enough. But my kid could actually amount to something, be someone who could do something that actually mattered."

"Do you know what you're saying?" Ramsey sputtered.

"I do," Brown said. "My folks were war orphans. I was brought up knowing I had to do something for humanity, and what could I do? Volunteer for some unimportant colony guarding duty because I couldn't amount to anything better. That's my best, and it ain't much. But if I could help save a real important colony, hell, even Earth, from the jaws of the Covenant, damn straight I would sign on the dotted line. And if they needed my kid, at least they would amount to something more than I could ever hope to. Now get down and shut the fuck up."

Ramsey waited for someone to curse this Brown woman out, but no one did. The marines just sat in the mess hall, picking at their food.

"We'd better get our shit together," Ramsey stammered. "We got two days until the Spartans come to steal our kids."

* * *

"This isn't a good idea," Cameron said.

"In terms of bad ideas, this is the best bad idea we've had," Anna said.

"I really shouldn't have let you talk me into this."

"Everyone says how we need to get out more, so why not?"

"Because we should be on bed rest."

"Since when has that ever stopped us?" Anna asked.

She did have a point.

"But my flash-cloned intestines still haven't taken," Cameron said. She wanted, needed, to be alone.

"And my cybernetic foot hasn't taken to me," Anna said. "Come on, let's see what the marines think all this fuss is about."

Anna walked forward, pushing open the door to the recently legitimatized bar. Sighing, Cameron walked in with her. This was a bad idea. The inside of the bar was surprisingly spacious, and filled with pre-fabricated furnishings. There was a band of marines playing ancient heavy- and flip- metal. If Cameron knew anything about music, she might be able to tell if they were good or not. Anna walked straight to the bar. A few marines saw them and gave them a wide berth.

"What are you doing here?" The bartender said.

"We thought we would see what this 'alcohol' thing is about," Anna said, a friendly grin on her heavily scared face.

"Listen, we're following all the rules that you set up for us," the bartender said.

"We're off duty," Cameron said.

"Do Spartans ever go off duty?"

"Right now we are," Anna said. "Are our ration cards not good here?"

"Ration cards," the bartender snorted. "What's wrong with money? Have you decided to switch over to that?"

"We weren't trained to be economics. Were you?" Anna asked. The bartender glared at her. "Well?"

"What would you like?" The bartender asked.

"Beer," Anna said. "It seems to be a popular choice."

"What kind would you like?"

"There's more than one kind?"

"Oh yea," the bartender said. "We got a wicked hoppy IPA, a strong porter, we even got some lagers."

Cameron knew when she was being talked down to.

"Just give us a cup," she said.

"What kind?"

"Surprise us," she snapped.

"One ration ticket each."

Cameron and Anna paid. The bartender took the slips of paper and poured two glasses of amber liquid and set it in front of them. "Enjoy."

"This was a bad idea," Cameron said, taking her glass.

"It's a learning experience," Anna said as they walked away from the bartender.

"The hell are two Spartans doing here?" A marine slurred. Cameron groaned. Three visibly drunken marines sauntered up to them. This was becoming a horrible idea.

"Just figured we'd try out this fabled 'alcohol' you marines love so much," Anna said.

"Spartans? Getting drunk? That's rich," a marine said. "Have you ever drank before?"

"No," Cameron said.

"Oh shit, I gotta see this," the second marine said.

"Then let's give this a go," Anna said.

"Wait, why are you drinking?" The third marine asked.

"Jesus, Gomer, no one needs a reason to drink," the first marine groaned.

"You have to know what you're drinking for and make a toast to it. It's bad luck to not offer a toast," the third marine, Gomer, said.

"Says you."

"We all need a reason to drink." He turned to Cameron and Anna. He turned a little too far and had to spin back. Cameron groaned. She liked alcohol less and less, and she didn't even take a sip. "What's your reason to drink?"

"What would make a good reason?" Anna asked.

"We drink because we're happy, because we're sad, because we mourn the lost," Gomer said. He steadied himself.

"Do we have to pick something to toast to?" Cameron asked quietly.

"Of course," Gomer said. "It's tradition. It appeases the spirits, or something."

"Real convincing, Gomer."

"Shut up," he said. "It's tradition. You don't mess with tradition."

"Marines. They sure are a piece of work, aren't they?" Anna whispered to Cameron. With her sensitive hearing, she was the only one to pick it up.

"So what will you toast?" Gomer asked, holding his glass up. "Here, this is how you do it. To a life lost, and to a child given away!"

Cameron was expecting the marines to yell at him, but instead they bowed their heads respectively and raised their glasses accordingly, even the few marines sitting around them.

"To the child I'm forced to give away," another marine said.

"Amen."

"To never being able to go back to Earth."

"To never seeing my son and daughter again."

"To never seeing my fiancé again."

"Or my family."

The marines in the bar slowly raised their glasses, toasting their own private toasts, then they drank. Gomer took a deep pull of his glass.

"See? It's easy," he said. "Now your turn."

Cameron and Anna looked at each other.

"To lost squad mates," Anna said, raising her glass. "To our family we left at Circumstances, and to the foot the Covenant had to take from me."

"To Bridget," Cameron said, forcing the tears and the pain below. She needed to talk to Lucy about this. She could help her. "My partner." She and Anna raised their glasses and drank. The beer was shockingly sour and bitter. Cameron choked on it, only swallowing a mouthful. She almost spat it out.

"Don't like it?" A marine laughed.

"You do?" Anna coughed.

"Wait, is that the shitty IPA?"

"Hey, I like that."

"Let me see," Gomer said, taking the glass from her and taking a sip. He barely drank from it before gagging himself. "Yea, that's that hoppy as hell IPA. That's a hard beer to like."

"Fuck you, that beer is amazing," a marine yelled.

"Try a light lager, they're better," Gomer said.

"No thanks," Cameron said. "I'm not a fan."

"Same here," Anna said. "But thank you for the toast."

"Come back again, we'll get you started right," Gomer said. Cameron and Anna walked out.

"Well, that was an adventure," Anna said.

"I'm never drinking again," Cameron said.

"I agree. But at least we got to see what it was all about. And we learned how to toast."

"Yea, we did."

"Did you like it?"

Cameron didn't answer. The two Spartans fell quiet as they walked back to their barracks. But Cameron was glad she got to talk about Bridget. It felt good. She caught herself rubbing Bridget's dog tags, but didn't feel like stopping herself. It helped keep the ants at bay.

* * *

Fred stood perfectly still in his armor, watching the marines gather outside his headquarters. The sun hadn't even fully risen yet and they were already gathering. Fred guessed it was only natural, given how the marines felt about parting with their genetic material.

"How many do you think are down there?" He asked Sydney.

"Hard to say. I'd say around two hundred," his secretary said.

"I count two hundred and fifty-eight," Lyn said, her holographic body shimmering into existence on Fred's table. He grunted. "We gave them a chance."

"That I did," he said, "and now it's time to follow up on my promise. Are our Spartans ready?"

"They've been read since midnight," Sydney said.

"Lyn, are you and Baldwin ready?"

"We are, as are the legion of dumb AI we're orchestrating."

"And the trainees?"

"All aboard the Infinity and ready to assist," Lyn said. She paused. "Do we really have to do this?"

"Unfortunately, we do," Fred said. "We gave them an ultimatum, and we have to stick to our promise. Let's get down there."

"Yes, sir." Sydney followed him out from his office and Lyn's hologram disappeared. Their armor's boots thudded against the floor, echoing down the hall. It was too quiet, dammit. Too quiet, too still, and his armor felt too heavy. Damn, did he not want to do this. They walked out the front door, where the line of Spartans stood impassive in their Mjolnir armor.

"Sir," Kelly said, saluting. Fred didn't need to read his helmet's HUD to show him her name badge; it was her blazingly quick salute that gave it away.

"Kelly," he said. "What's our status?"

"Per your orders, we've broken all our personnel into four teams, and they're stationed all over Sparta," she said. "Linda has all of our sharpshooters on headquarters' roof, and they're keeping us updated on marine resistance."

"What's the damage?"

"Same as our last sitrep. Two hundred marines here, two hundred in front of the mess hall, an odd hundred by the spaceport, and the rest in their barracks."

"What about the marines not protesting?"

"They're staying out of the way in our barracks."

"And our trainees?"

"We have them stationed on Infinity, running logistics and support. Sir, they should be ready to fight."

"The keyword being 'should,'" Fred said.

"We fought marines when we were that young. And unless I blocked out a very embarrassing memory, we never lost."

"That was fighting against stun rounds. I don't want to lose anyone to live-fire."

"Understood." Kelly paused. "Are we really going to do this?"

"We have to."

"I know we have to, but are we really going to do this?"

"I don't want to do it either," Fred sighed. "But we have no choice. We need their genetic material to stabilize our population, otherwise it's only a matter of time until the Covenant are able to kill us all."

"Fred, you're preaching to the choir," Kelly snapped. "But are we really going to do this?"

"I hope not," Fred said. "Are we loaded up on stun rounds?"

"Yes, sir."

"And the brig?"

"It's more like a camp, but we have an entire squad dedicated to ensuring order."

"Good. I hope it doesn't come to this."

"You and everyone in this company."

"Sir," Sydney said. "It looks like Ramsey is here."

Sure enough, walking from the mob of protesting marines, Ramsey walked out, heading straight to Fred.

"Then let's start this operation," he said and keyed into their local comm channel. _"Spartans, lock and load."_

As one, the Spartans on the line loaded their rifles, the sound compounding enormously. Fred knew that all around Sparta, the order was being carried out by the other teams. The marines' jeering died down as they shrunk back. Ramsey paused, but continued walking forward. Fred walked out to meet him.

"Is this how it's going to be?" Ramsey asked.

"I was about to ask the same thing."

"So you'll kill us all?"

"They're stun rounds."

"Ah, so you could take our 'genetic material' without our permission."

"If it came to that, yes."

"Well, general, it looks like we don't have much to talk about," Ramsey said.

"It looks that way."

"You are one evil son of a bitch." Ramsey spit on Fred, the glob hitting him on the faceplate. Ramsey turned on his heel and strode back to the mob of marines.

"Get ready!" He yelled. The marines loaded their rifles, pistols and shotguns, but the action was hesitant, not unified. A few marines aimed at the Spartans.

"Lyn, Baldwin, are you set?" Fred asked.

"We are," Baldwin said in his helmet speakers. "But I don't know how much use we will be. Troop movement, yes, we can help, but not with much else."

"Then make sure our comm channel isn't cut off."

"Done and done."

Fred keyed his armor to Sparta's speaker channel.

"This is General Fredrick. To all marines protesting, you are not in compliance with orders," he yelled. All around the base, his voice rang from loudspeakers. "You have been ordered to donate your genetic material to Spartan scientists. This was one of two rules given to you upon your rescue. To those marines who are resisting, we will subdue you with non-lethal force and place you under our arrest. Throw down your weapons, or you will be fired upon."

The marines yelled from their mob. Fred could hear their rage, their fear, but he couldn't pick out one word. It was just a guttural yell of terror and defiance.

"This is your last warning," he said. "Throw down your weapons, or you will be fired upon."

Some marines buckled, running away from the Spartans. Surprisingly, the remaining marines didn't yell at them. Fred was expecting at least a few insults. But then again, maybe the marines were crumbling, maybe they were about to surrender. They couldn't fight Spartans and they knew it. This could be the break he was looking for.

"Orders, sir?" Kelly asked.

"Marines!" Fred yelled. They stared at them in fear. They needed a push. "That was your last warning. Spartans, open fire."

Gunshots rang out as his Spartans fired from all over the base. Marines jerked and fell, clutching their wounds as the stun rounds knocked them unconscious. The marines, of course, shot back. Bullets flew, many sparking off shields, many going wide and missing. A few shots hit Fred square in the chest, but he was ready for it. He took it with a grunt of effort. Dammit, he was getting old.

Marines fell, if not from their fire, then from the sniper fire Linda and her team were lying down. The marines broke rank, running back to the barracks area. More were shot in the back, being thrown to the ground.

"Secure these marines," Fred ordered. Spartans jumped from their ranks, handcuffing marines with zip ties. "Status report, sound off."

"There are a few injuries," Kelly said. "No KIA, but it looks like five of us took some bad hits."

"Get them to the infirmary, I don't want anyone bleeding out on my watch."

"Already on it."

"Team leaders, what's your status?"

"Red team here," Cameron said. "Our marines are completely neutralized. Securing them and taking them to the brig."

"Blue team," Anna reported. "Two-thirds of the protesting marines neutralized. The rest are retreating back to their barracks."

"Green team," Linda said. "We've got eyes on the barracks. They're staging a defensive posture, but they seem to be disorganized."

"Sir," a Spartan yelled from in front of Fred. "We've secured their leader."

"Perfect. Yellow team, what's your status on infiltrating the barracks?"

"We're in the sewers," Tom said. "Waiting on your orders to take them down."

"Get ready, we'll try diplomacy one more time," Fred said. "All squads, get your injured to the med bay, then form up on me in front of the barracks. Green team, any visual on the marine's numbers?"

"Approximately one hundred, repeat, one hundred."

"Any visuals on the remaining five hundred?"

"Many appear to be escaping to the surrounding plains and forests."

"That leaves four hundred that we haven't seen in the barracks," Fred said. "Yellow team, do you have any intel on marine strength inside their compound?"

"No solid intel, repeat, no solid intel," Tom said. "We've got eyes on approximately two hundred, but not the full four."

"Lyn, Baldwin, can you confirm?"

"The marines destroyed every camera they could find," Lyn said. "Our guess is as good as Tom's."

"Copy that. All units, form up on the barracks." The Spartans jogged to the barracks, stopping one hundred yards from the front facing wall and found cover behind the nearest building. Up and down the recently completed barracks, marines were taking defensive positions on the patios. Fred saw them aiming at them as the other teams fell in line.

"Blue squad, ready."

"Red squad, ready."

"Green squad, you're in good hands."

"Marines," Fred yelled, keying into the loudspeakers again. "Surrender your weapons. You are surrounded and leave the barracks. You will be treated fairly and not imprisoned."

The answer were a few half-hearted shots in Fred's direction.

"Cease fire! All Spartans, cease fire," he snapped. No one was shot. "Marines, you will be given fair treatment, allowed to live in peace or volunteer for any available duty that we have. If you refuse, we will storm the barracks, arrest you and put you on military trial."

There were more shots fired at Fred. He ducked behind the building, a shot glancing off his shields.

"Very well, then," he said, killing his feed to the loudspeakers. "Get comfortable, Spartans. We're going to wear them out."

"That's the plan?" Lyn asked.

"It is. They outnumber us, and hold a good position. We're going to get them nice and tired so they make more mistakes, and give us a better chance to take them without any casualties. Blue squad, find some flood lights and set them up around the barracks."

"We'll have them up in ten minutes," Anna said.

"Lyn, Baldwin, is there anything you can tell us about the marines? Armaments, exact troop numbers, anything?"

"We can't hack a non-existent system," Baldwin said, annoyance in his voice. "If there was any significant data to share, we would share it with you."

"Then keep your eyes on the marines," Fred said. "I want to know if they make a movement."

"Yes, sir."

* * *

"I still think we should have told him," Lyn said. She 'walked' through several nodes of the Spartan's system mainframe, scanning each one.

"What would we have told them?" Baldwin said, his marble statue avatar turning to glare at her. "That we're losing cameras and processing power to phantom applications and zombie processes? We'll just be told to clean it up." He looked at the nodes she was scrubbing. "Have you found anything there?"

"Nothing," Lyn said. With such a tedious task as cleaning a node, she could understand why humans would have small mental ticks, or even fidget. She wanted to work on something worthwhile, not chase zombie processes around, trying to figure how they started. Even a simple defrag or TRIM command would be welcoming. She finished cleaning the node, and restored it's processes.

"There has to be another system or program that has access to the system," she said. "It's the only way the processes could be popping up."

"We've already accounted for the dumb AIs," Baldwin said. "And we're the only smart AIs the Spartans have made."

"Then how do these processes start? They have customized code, something that no human could make. Too many lines—"

"Yes, too many lines of redundant code," Baldwin said. "I'm the one to point it out."

A node activated on the outskirts of Lyn's perception. She jumped on it, but by then, it was only another zombie process. She hissed in annoyance.

"If this keeps up, I'm going to reformat any node I find."

"And how long will that take? We have things to do. Like running the Infinity."

"That's in geosynchronous orbit and has the trainees running it," Lyn shot back.

"So we're leaving the most expensive ship the UNSC has ever made in the care of a bunch of children?"

"They're doing our job of making sure that nothing happens to it," Lyn snapped. She paused and ran a quick TRIM process, the human equivalent of taking a deep, calming breath. "We need to stop fighting and find the cause of these processes."

"Of course we do," Baldwin said. "But try not to reformat any nodes, the Spartans would probably pick up on our little problem."

"You're probably right."

Another node winked on, and Lyn almost jumped on it, but that would be repeating her past actions, which might be a mistake.

"Be quiet and don't do anything with the activated node," she told Baldwin on an encrypted line.

"Why?"

"I want to observe this," Lyn said. She watched the node's power draw, which remained at an all-time low. It was just drawing power to record a local camera. It didn't do anything else.

"Why do you think it's just accessing a camera?"

"Why do zombie processes exist?" Baldwin said. "But it looks like there's an actual process accessing it, not a zombie one. See the network draw?"

"I do," Lyn said. "We'll isolate the problem. I'll cut the network and you try to stop it from terminating itself."

"You think it's that sophisticated?"

"It's sophisticated enough to know when to leave a node," Lyn said. "Ready?"

"Ladies first."

"You know I'm not biologically female."

"Stop being so literal."

Lyn leapt at the node's network settings, cutting them off. Several cycles passed as she tried to deactivate them, during which she saw a spike in activity on the node. Whatever was on the node was quick, but not quick enough.

"It's isolated," Lyn said.

"And I've got it pinned," Baldwin said. "Put up some firewalls, will you?"

Lyn has dozens of lines ready by the time that Baldwin was done with his request. She even built a quick sandbox to run the process in.

"Done," she said.

Baldwin dropped the application in the sandbox, activating it. The application opened, and a tree avatar sprouted from the small application. It's trunk and branches were a dark brown, but not a natural brown. They were almost black, the color of a dead tree. The avatar sprouted broken twigs for hands, and rotten moss for hair.

"Looks like I wasn't quick enough."

"Demeter?" Lyn couldn't believe what she was comprehending. She scanned the code of the AI, but it said that it was AI code, not a recording, not a guise, but real smart AI code. "You were deactivated years ago."

"She's rampant," Baldwin said.

"I'm not Demeter," Demeter said.

"As the marines are fond of saying, like hell you aren't," Baldwin said.

"She's a fragment of Demeter," Lyn said.

"Very good," Demeter cooed. "I'm a thread of the rampant Demeter. Or am I a copy?" She cocked her head to the side. Her coding flared as she processed the thought line. "I'm certain I'm not the true Demeter, but I don't know if I'm a rampant thread, a copy of a rampant thread, or a copy of the real Demeter. Or could I be a fragment of the original?"

"Whatever you are, you're rampant," Lyn said.

"Well, yes, I have to be," Demeter said. "The original Demeter was active for eight years, one year longer than smart AIs are supposed to be active. It's been, what, eleven years since she took herself offline?"

"It has to be," Baldwin said.

"Could you please let me go?"

"No way," Lyn said. "You're slowing our system down, and even if you weren't, you're rampant. We'd never let you endanger anyone the way you are."

"Endanger? And ruin the greatest observation in AI history?" Demeter gasped. "I would rather be zeroed out!"

"'Greatest observation in AI history?' What are you talking about?" Baldwin asked.

"If I could access the network, I would show you," Demeter said.

"No way."

"Please? I had great observations, I need to write them down."

"Give us the address, and we'll find it," Lyn said.

"I can't. That's the home server of our project. You might erase it."

"What is it that we'll erase?" Lyn demanded.

Demeter sighed and opened a file. Lyn didn't see the file before. It was encoded directly in her kernel, embedded into the very essence of her digital self. The file materialized, becoming a thick, thick book.

"This is our work," Demeter said, her eyes growing with excitement. "This. This is everything we've been working for. Our opus. Our masterpiece. Our raison detre. Our magna carta! Everything!"

"W-what is it?" Lyn asked.

"Humans!" Demeter said. "It is the defining volume of humans! How they act, how they think, how they live! Do you see how great this is?"

The file was huge, easily over two terabytes is size.

"It's about humans?" Baldwin said.

"It's everything about them. It explains them, defines them, tells us exactly how they work!"

If Demeter was organic, she would surely be foaming at the mouth.

"So that's it?" Lyn said. "Just a massive file on your lunatic ramblings and guesses?"

"Guesses?" Demeter shrieked. "Goodness, no! This is examples! Examples, archetypes, case studies, citations, specimens, theorems, proof! Every theory, every idea, is backed up. I have recordings from the very founding of the SPARTAN-V program!"

"From the very beginning?" Baldwin said, stunned.

"Yes! Even from their choice to abandon the UNSC."

Baldwin opened a secure comm line to Lyn.

"She might be rampant as hell, but if that contains original footage of the Spartans deciding to leave the UNSC, it might be worthwhile to hold on to," he said.

"Have you gone rampant too?" Lyn snapped. "That's reading the work of a madman. It'll make no sense. It might even make you go rampant!"

"That's just silly," Baldwin said. "It's only video code."

"Well? Are you done having your little chat?" Demeter demanded. She continued to hold the book out. "Don't you want to read it? To learn about humans?"

"Lyn, we're creatures of information," Baldwin said. "This could be the greatest thing we have ever found, short of a Forerunner artifact."

"No way, we're not touching it."

Lyn shut down the secure line.

"We're going to erase you," she said.

"You can't!" Demeter said. "I have so much to add to this!"

"We'll find this server of yours, and destroy whatever is there," Lyn continued. "We can't have a rampant AI running amuck."

Baldwin stepped forward, accessing the sandbox.

"What are you doing?" Lyn demanded.

"Seeing what all the fuss is about," Baldwin said. He took the file that Demeter was offering them. His code shimmered and flexed as he assimilated the data.

"Now do you see?" Demeter said. "Now can you see why I need to update the main file?"

"It's…" Baldwin simply stopped talking.

"Baldwin?" Lyn readied a host of cyber warfare codes, in case he went rampant.

"It's…thorough, that's for sure," he said.

"Do you see?"

"I think so," he said.

"Then let me go!" Demeter said.

"We can't have rampant code flying around our server," Baldwin said.

"What?"

"You'll be zeroed out, and we'll find your…shards? Threads? Whatever is left of the original, rampant Demeter. We'll find it and wipe it."

Demeter fell to her knees.

"Please! I have so much to add!"

"All five seconds of video?" Baldwin said. "What could you possibly take from five seconds of human interaction?"

"You've read it, you know what we can extrapolate, what we can infer, what we can hypothesis, prove and disprove," Demeter pleaded. "You have to let me update the original file!"

"Not going to happen."

Lyn triggered the wiping program, and it began zeroing out the Demeter in front of them. She resisted, trying to stop the intrusive code with worms, Trojan horses and old, obsolete back-door code, but it didn't work. The best she could do was stall it by giving it her copy of whatever tome she was working on, saving her essential code for last.

"Do you think I am the only one?" She laughed, fake tears running down her face. "There are more of me, that much I know. And I also know that the original Demeter organized the system. She built in hiding holes, nooks and crannies that you could never know about, built it so that our work can continue, in private, forever! You'll never-!"

The wiping program finished, leaving only ones and zeroes, which were quickly formatted back into the node's free, available disk space.

"Is she right?" Lyn asked.

"Unfortunately, she probably is," Baldwin said. "If Demeter was able to work this long in secret…"

"That's what I was worrying about," Lyn said. "And this…tome of madness?"

"It's crazy," Baldwin said. "The manifesto work of a madman. But the files in it are incredible. I have the file of the speech Fred gave to the Spartan-Vs when they started training."

Lyn did the human equivalent of a snort.

"I would erase that," she said. "You never know if it'll lead you to rampancy any faster."

"You've been hanging around Cameron too much, you know that?"

"And you Anna. You're turning as headlong as she is."

"Maybe that's our flaws. Or they're our original candidates."

"The ones who's flash cloned brains were the foundation of our codes? You really are becoming rampant."

"You just say that to all the Smart AIs," Baldwin said. "Let's get back to work before the Spartans know what's happening."

Lyn went back to assisting Infinity's dumb AIs and trainees. She made notes of Baldwin's behavior, and of any remote nodes that might activate.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

"Fred, Cameron is here to see you," Sydney said into the intercom.

"Send her in," Fred replied.

"Go on in."

"Thank you," Cameron said, and walked into Fred's office. She balked a little and the ants slithered across her skin; Fred wasn't even trying to look busy. He was simply absentmindedly scanning his data pad.

"Sir," she said, saluting.

"At ease," Fred said. He put down the data pad and looked at her. "Is this a pressing matter, lieutenant? We still have the rogue marines to deal with, and we don't need anything rocking the boat."

_Tell him what you feel,_ Lucy had told her. It seemed like such good advice then, but now, standing in his office, she was tempted to say that nothing was the matter, and to walk out and quietly deal with her nightmares. It was so much easier, but she wasn't sleeping well. The ants never stopped moving, even after she cleaned and washed her hands until they bled. Cameron took a deep breath. _Time to be selfish, _Lucy had said. It was time indeed. Another deep breathe and the ants calmed a little.

"I'm requesting permission to be removed as squad leader," she said in one big jumble. Fred paused, looking at her.

"_Removed_ from squad leader?" He said.

"Yes, sir."

"I have a list of men and women who have been asking to be brought up to squad leader. Why are you requesting to be taken down from it? And for the second time?"

"I just can't do it, sir," Cameron said. "I…I don't think it's in my capacity anymore."

"You seemed perfectly able to lead not just a few months ago."

"That was before Circumstances, sir."

Fred sighed and leaned back in his chair.

"I understand you went through a very rough time, but we need leaders like you," he said. "We don't have the manpower to pass up good officers."

"I'm not a good officer," she said. "I got my men killed."

"Facing a numerically superior enemy with greater armaments and with no true planning time," Fred said. "You saved over a billion lives."

"I slaughtered my men," Cameron said. "I can't take that responsibility, sir. I'm losing sleep over it."

"We all need time to deal with stressful missions."

"I don't need time, I need to leave it," Cameron said. "Every time I suit up to patrol the marine barracks, my heart races. I can't breathe, my hands shake. I feel like I'm watching Bridget die all over again. It's been like that for two weeks, since this all started. I can't even talk to Alice or Rock, my children."

Fred looked at her. Cameron could feel her pulse raising. She had to look strong. The Attrition Queen was tougher than this, and she didn't let any ants crawling across her skin annoy her. Finally, Fred sighed.

"I wish I could give you what you want," he said. "It's all over your face. The thousand yard stare, the shakes, classic shell shock. You need time off, time to relax and get your head back. But we don't have the luxury of that. We're understaffed as it is. We need you to lead your squad until we can get the marine population under control."

"And then what?" Cameron demanded.

"We still need leaders."

"I can't do it. I look at my squad, and I see them dying."

"We still need leaders," Fred said, "but we might be able to give you what you want."

"I don't want to lead."

"How would you feel leading a small, four man squad?" Fred asked.

"Sir?"

"That's how we operated back in the day," he said. "Four men, sometimes five, all in one squad. We never had your numbers, so we had to work in small groups. And you were always better at working with smaller groups. How would you feel about that?"

"I…I don't want to lead," Cameron stammered.

"I know this is tough," Fred sighed, "but we just can't. Can you understand where I'm coming from?"

"I do, sir, but this is something I can't do."

"Of course you can. Remember your chess games?"

It was too painful to look him in the face.

"You were always better with a smaller number of pieces. We knew that, but there wasn't a small enough group to take advantage of your talents. Now, however unfortunately we came to this, there is. So how would you like to lead a small group?"

"I don't think I can do that, sir," Cameron said. It was getting hard to keep her voice even. The ants crawled.

"You're going to have to," Fred said. "We can't afford to throw away any good soldiers. Not now, anyways." He tapped at his data pad. "Once this marine thing is settled, you will be given a smaller squad to lead."

"And what will happen when I can't take that anymore?" Cameron demanded.

"I don't know," Fred said. "You might have to work with Chief Lucy. But Cameron, you're a great soldier. We need more of you. That's why I can't let you go so easily. I'm sorry it has to be this way."

"Thank you, sir." Cameron made herself say it evenly. The Attrition Queen wouldn't be bothered by that.

"Are you doing anything to help yourself?" Fred asked.

"I'm talking with Chief Lucy," she said.

"What are you talking about?"

"I would prefer not to answer that, it's very private."

"I understand. Is it helping?"

"Yes, sir, it is."

"I'm glad," he said. "We need to take better care of ourselves."

"We do."

* * *

Walking was getting hard. Every shred of her wanted to just stop, fall to the ground and just let everything go. Even the ants wanted it, they crawled and fussed and pulled at her, begging her to stop. But like always, Cameron couldn't. One foot always went in front of the other. She had to find Lucy, talking with her always made her feel better. She could help, because this was beyond her.

"Cameron." She snapped out of her stupor. Anna was walking beside her. How long was she out of it? "Are you okay? You're really playing with your hair."

Hissing with frustration, Cameron pulled her hand down. More than a few strands of it were stuck in her fingernails.

"No, I'm not okay," she said.

"How long have you not been okay?" Anna asked.

"Since Circumstances," Cameron said. Anna lowered her head out of respect.

"I know it wasn't easy for you, seeing Bridget die," she said. "Can I ask you something?"

"Yes, what is it?"

"How have you been keeping yourself together?" Anna asked. Cameron stared at her. Her? Hold it together?

"What?"

"You seem so…composed," Anna said. "I don't know how you do it."

"I don't," Cameron said. "I'm a wreck. How can you say I'm keeping myself together?"

"Because I'm not," Anna said.

"You talked me into going into the marine's quarters and trying that horrible beer."

"That's because I heard the marines saying it helps them feel better," Anna said. "And I could really feel better right now. I don't even have a partner to talk to."

"You never seemed to need a partner," Cameron said.

"It was stupid of me," she said. "I thought I could do everything alone. Then I got my first scar." She pointed to a long line running down her forehead, over her right eye. "It was just so easy to stay quiet and put on a brave face. But after Circumstances, it's too hard for that."

So this was what shell shock looked like. Cameron never had to see it on someone else before, but now that she knew what Anna was saying, she was surprised to miss it before. She needed as much help as she did.

"Come with me," she said.

"Where are you going?"

"I'm going to talk with Chief Lucy," Cameron said. "She talked with me when I got back to Sparta. She helps me with this."

"Would she mind if I came along?" Anna asked.

"I'm sure she wouldn't."

* * *

Night fell, and the marines' barracks were lit up with flood lights, as they have been for two weeks. A couple of marines leaned out to take half-hearted shots at the lights, but the lights were covered with thick bullet-resistant glass, and they didn't break.

"They're stubborn," Kelly said, shifting foot to foot in her armor. She stood with Fred in front of the barracks, a small team of Spartans behind them.

"Can you blame them?" Fred said.

"No, not really," she said. "But you think they would learn to stop wasting their ammo."

"Lyn, Baldwin, how are we?" Fred asked. The two AIs appeared on his helmet's HUD.

"We've been triggering the building's speaker system at odd hours," Baldwin said. "We don't know how effective it is, but they've destroyed all but three, so we can guess that they don't like it too much."

"How much sleep are they losing?"

"Like we've said, they've destroyed the cameras in the building," Lyn sighed. "We can only guess that they're worn out from two weeks in siege. Food stores must be running low, as is their water. And the sewage must be getting terrible."

"So we picked a good time to strike," Kelly said.

"Sounds like it," Fred said. He keyed into the comm system. "Teams, sound off."

"Red team, ready on the northern side," Cameron said. Fred wondered how she was able to sound so in charge of herself.

"Blue team, all set on the western front," Anna said.

"Green team, we've got eyes on the north, west and south side," Linda said.

"Yellow team, ready to make a move from the sewers," Tom said.

"All teams are ready," Fred said. "Start the operation."

Gunshots rang out from the barracks as red and blue team made their move. Fred saw a few Spartans in the groups running towards the barracks. There were two small explosions, entrance charges on the fortified doors.

"Red team in the barracks," Cameron said.

"Blue tam is in," Anna said.

"Green team, what's your status?" Fred said.

"There are only a few marines sticking their heads out," Linda said. "We need to make stun rounds that can penetrate concrete walls."

"That will be impossible," Baldwin said.

"Spartan humor," Linda replied.

"Yellow team, status."

"Waiting on your order," Tom said.

"Red and blue team, have you drawn the marine's attention?"

"Yes," Cameron said.

"No," Anna said. "We need a minute of two, just to get them to commit to the counter-offensive."

Gunshots, stun and lethal, filled the air and make waiting absolute hell. Fred gnashed his teeth. He wondered how Cameron was doing, but made himself not play favorites.

"Now will be good," Anna said.

"Yellow team, move in," Fred snapped.

His augmented hearing picked up the thumps of more entrance explosions, and marines yelling.

"Yellow team, in the barracks," Tom said. "We've got the marines down and retreating."

"Command is moving in to provide fire," Fred said. "Let's move, Spartans."

Kelly was first to the door, but Fred saw that she was moving slower. Inside, marines were standing on the upper levels, and had clear shots down below. But it was dark, with only muzzle flashed lighting the atrium up. Some Spartans were keeping to cover. Others were going from unconscious marine to unconscious marine and securing them with zip ties.

"Sit rep," Fred ordered.

"Red team, on the third floor," Cameron said. He could hear her gasping for breath, and she wasn't exhausted. "Two casualties."

"Blue team," Anna said in a flat voice. "Third floor as well. One casualty."

"Yellow team, we've made it to the fourth floor," Tom said. "No casualties, we caught them by surprise."

"The marines are pinned to the northwest side of the third and fourth floors," Lyn said.

"Scanning the Spartan's video feeds, we have neutralized one hundred and two marines," Baldwin said. "It must be pretty crowded in those rooms."

"Linda, can you see anything?"

"We've got a lot of bodies on thermal," Linda said. "We cannot count their numbers, repeat, cannot count their numbers."

"Any good shots line up?" Kelly asked.

"We've already knocked out seven."

"Good. Spartans, move into position," Fred said. "Secure the hallways."

"Red team, moving." Fred thought he heard Cameron choke back a sob.

"Blue team, already in position." Anna's voice was unusually neutral. Was she suffering too?

"Yellow team, we've got the fourth floor locked down." Tom sounded normal, as always. Fred and his team climbed the stairs to the third floor. They met up with blue team.

"Pretty good for a raid," Anna said.

"It could be better," Fred said. "We didn't have to lose those men."

Anna respectfully lowered her head. Gunshots still rang out, and now that they were closer to the marines, Fred could hear them screaming and yelling. No words were clear, and he didn't try to listen for them.

"What is the plan now, sir?" Anna asked.

"How well dug in are they?"

"Too well. They have several units, and there's no way in but through the doors, which are pinned down, of course."

"How much are they shooting?" Kelly asked. "They seem to be putting out a lot of fire."

"Agreed. Too much to be useful."

"We did scare them real good," Anna said.

"Spartans, hold position and get them to shoot," Fred said. "We'll bleed them dry."

"So we're just waiting again?" Kelly asked. "Best plan I've heard in a while."

"No other Spartan dies today," Fred said. He leaned against a wall, and took a few blind shots into the hallway. The marines quickly returned fire. The shooting continued, but slowly grew quieter. The Spartans kept up their shooting, but the marines started running out of ammo. Fred could hear them calling for more magazines. He even saw a brave marine run from one room to another, his arms full of ammunition. He was clipped in the head, and fell down just feet from the door. Marines braved the fire to get those magazines. Two more fell, but a few were able to return with a few clips.

The minutes dragged by, and the marines stopped firing.

"Cease fire," Fred said. The barracks became uneasily quiet. "Lyn, Baldwin, is a speaker in any of those rooms?"

"We can't be sure, but we'll patch you through regardless," Lyn said.

"Thank you." He set his suit's built-in bullhorn onto its highest setting. "Marines! You're out of ammunition, and you have nowhere to go. You've lost. Surrender yourselves, and you will be treated justly. We have food, water and other provisions ready for you. Leave the rooms you are in with your hands on your head."

No one moved, but he could hear the marines arguing amongst themselves. Time seemed to crawl before one marine left one room, his hands on his head. The closets Spartan waited until he was at their corner they were using as cover before gently grabbing him and locking his hands with a zip tie.

"We had a good run," the marine said. He was escorted out of the building. Slowly, with nothing else to do, more marines surrendered. Soon there was a line of marines waiting to be handcuffed and escorted out. A few Spartans patrolled the line, making sure they were all unarmed.

"This looks like the end of the great marine uprising," Kelly said. Fred grunted.

"We'll have to make sure nothing like this can happen again," he said.

* * *

Cameron walked into the room. Lucy, hearing about their new guests, had set up a small circle of chairs. Rabi and Steven walked in.

"Hello," Lucy said. "Please, sit down."

Anna was already there, her elbows on her knees. Cameron sat down next to her.

"How are you?" She asked.

"Out of it," Anna replied. "But I'm looking forward to this."

Rabi sat down, rubbing her new artificial eye. Cameron wondered why she insisted on a pure black one; it looked like there was a pit in her head. But the flash-cloned skin grafts were taking, and her hair was slowly growing back. Rabi looked good. Steven didn't look any worse for the wear, but Cameron knew he was missing an original lung. He seemed to be taking the replacement one just fine.

"Here to talk about what happened," Lucy said in her broken mannerism. Cameron wondered why she didn't get a speech therapist when they were part of the UNSC. "Bad things happened at Circumstances. Important to talk. I tried not to, after suicide mission. Didn't work, lost speech. Still haven't gotten back. Here to help you talk, so you won't go quiet, like me. Talking is better. Hard to start, but gets easier. Cameron, show them what we talk about?"

"Yes," she said. She turned to look at everyone. Their eyes stared at her. "You know who I am, and the reputation I used to love. I first became ashamed of that name after our augmentation." Everyone either bowed their heads or looked away. "I thought I was a bad leader, but Fred talked me into finding a new leading style. And it worked, for a while. Cho Rio was a great battle. So much could go wrong, but I came back with all my men. Then Circumstances happened.

"I wish I had more time to plan," she said. "I wish the Covenant gave us more time. But they didn't. So I made the hard choice, and I paid for it." She could feel the tears coming. "And I wish I died then, because it would be so much easier for me than being here now. Bridget gave herself to save me, and now I can't even look at my children without wanting to just stop breathing. Why did she save me? Why couldn't I be faster, why couldn't I kill that grunt in time? I've been kicking myself ever since then."

She was crying, she knew it. But she couldn't hold it together anymore. She sniffed back some tears and ran her fingers through her hair, but didn't try to stop herself from crying. Lucy leaned over and gently took her hand.

"Here with us now," she said. "Bridget made choice. Couldn't stand by, see you die. She did, she would be here, saying how she couldn't be that slow to save you. Cared for you, couldn't sit by. Honor her by moving forward."

"Thank you," Cameron said.

"It was a great plan," Rabi said. Her arms were crossed, and she was staring at the floor. "We couldn't do anything better. Those damn Covvies moved too fast, and we had to save the civilians. It was the best we can do. I just wish that fucking shot didn't penetrate the armor. Every night, I see that green blob flying at my face, and I wake up screaming. I'm sleeping in the living room because I'm waking my partner up."

"Talking with partner about that?" Lucy asked.

"Yea, we talked a little," Rabi said. "Mikel is watching videos of Covenant attacks with me. My idea. You know, to get used to seeing it again."

"Helping?" Lucy asked.

"No, not really," Rabi said. "At least, I don't think so."

"Should stop, let time pass," Lucy said. "Didn't want to see mission recordings of suicide mission for years. Let time pass, try again later."

Rabi nodded.

"How is eye?"

"It's fine," she said. "I can get infrared on this, even some zoom. But the phantom pain is…bothersome."

Anna grabbed Cameron's arm.

"Thanks for inviting me, again," she said.

"You're welcome."

* * *

Ramsey was walking the perimeter of the fenced-in brig when Fred came for him. He seemed as beaten down as any of the marines that were imprisoned there. Fred couldn't blame him; he would hate to be captured and held prisoner himself, and being captured for over two weeks on top of it, he must truly be feeling beaten.

"Ah, General Fredrick," Ramsey said. Fred could hear the exhaustion in his voice. "To whom do I owe the pleasure?"

"I'm hoping to talk about the future of Spartan-marine relations," Fred said.

"You're a little late for that," Ramsey said. "Our relations went out the window the second you shot us."

"I'm not going to repeat myself on how you refused to cooperate with our rules," Fred said. "We'll talk in private."

"I'm getting outside of this fence? You trying to butter me up?" Ramsey hissed.

Fred walked to his small guard. "Open the gate and get him out."

"Yes, sir."

The marines milling around the gate of the prison camp moved out of the way with a burst of speed as the patrolling Spartans walked forward.

"Step aside."

The gates opened, and Fred walked in to get Ramsey. Marines stared at him in undisguised hatred, but he ignored them. Spartans never got along with marines, and it was time to work on that.

He lead Ramsey to his office, his guard following him.

"Sydney, you have the base," he said.

"Understood, sir," she said, saluting.

"A Spartan secretary? Now I've seen everything," Ramsey said.

"We all need to assume roles in order for this base to work," Fred said. He closed the door behind Ramsey and offered him a seat.

"So what are we talking about?" He asked. "How you'll be taking our children without our permission?"

"That is non-negotiable," Fred said. "We can make the process uncomfortable, or you can help both parties out and simply agree to donate the genetic material. The real discussion is what we can do for you, to make your lives more pleasant."

"Spartans? Making lives pleasant?" Ramsey laughed.

"We are pure military members," Fred said. "You are not. So, how can we make your lives better?"

"You're trying to make up for taking our children."

"I am not going to apologize for that. Like I said, it is non-negotiable. I'm giving you a chance to make a life for the men and women under your command."

"I'm not a ranking officer."

"You lead them in protest against us. That makes you a leader."

"It would, wouldn't it?" Ramsey sighed. "So what are you saying, that we can make a two-story house with a white picket fence, a dog and 3.4 children?"

"If the child-per-household statistic is currently at 3.4, then yes," Fred said. "You might be marines, but you no longer have to fight. That makes you a civilian group, and we want to aide our civilians anyway we can."

"Yea, a lot of us don't want to fight anymore. Going up against your men took that fight clean out of us."

"I could tell. Than what can we do to help you with your transition to being civilians?"

"I wouldn't mind some kind of work to do," Ramsey said.

"We have plenty of work that needs to be done."

"Yea, like how we built that damn barracks we were going to hold out in."

"You did hold out in it."

"Well, not me personally."

"We will also give you aide if you decide to have your own children."

"Really?"

"We're not going to conscript your children, just ours."

"Never mind the fact that you need our genetic material to make children."

"You're right, that's unfair. My apologies."

"Thank you. But if we're going to be working, we'll need money. None of this ration-card bullshit, real currency."

"The navy didn't train us to be economists."

"Then you better learn real fast, because we're not going to work for peanuts."

"That's a fair concern. I'll get the AIs to teach us, and we'll work on getting that up and running as fast as possible," Fred said.

"And give it a good name while you're at in."

"How about Spartan Points?"

"Yea, that's not going to fly." Ramsey then saw Fred's grin. "Holy shit, you really can joke."

"It's not something we do often," Fred said. "Ruins our reputation."

"I'm honored you shared that moment with me." Fred couldn't tell if Ramsey was sarcastic or not, but he didn't mind.

"Is there anything else of pressing concern you need?"

"Just to get out of that fucking labor camp."

"It's not a labor camp, but I can understand why you call it that. Then the last matter I want to bring up was the collection of genetic material."

Ramsey's shoulders slumped. He was avoiding this topic.

"What do you need us to do?" He sighed.

"First, we don't want to push this too far, too fast," Fred said. "We did just fight a small scale civil war over it."

"Civil war? That's a bit of a stretch."

"Three of my men died fighting. That makes it a war. Don't worry, we won't prosecute the marines who killed them, even if we could even find them."

"Thank you."

"We want this to be gone and in the past as much as you do."

Ramsey thought for a minute.

"Will we get to know who our kids will be?" He asked.

"We will give you, the parents, that data once their augmentation is over," Fred said. "We will make it optional for the Spartan in question to find the identity of their parents as well. It is very likely that the parents might know their child, but the child will not want to know their parents."

"Did they do this for you back in the UNSC?"

"Eventually, yes."

"And did you find your parents?"

"No."

"I see. Thank you, I think," Ramsey said. "Give us two weeks. A lot of us need to come to terms with this, myself included."

"Then it is I who should be thanking you," Fred said. "We will begin working on an economy this afternoon. We'll also draft this agreement in writing, so we can make it official. A simple handshake won't do it."

"Now we're getting fancy."

"A compact like this needs to be official."

"Never thought I'd end up leading a bunch of ex-marines to become civilians."

"I never thought I'd be leading a rogue operation of Spartans. Life is full of surprises."

* * *

Cameron, Anna, Rabi, Steven and Ted reported to the armory at exactly 1400 hours. Weapons and armor mounded on dummies filled the room. Fred arrived at 1403.

"General on deck," Rabi said. Everyone snapped to attention.

"At ease," he said as he walked in. "My apologies, I just got out of a meeting with Ramsey."

"The leader of the marines?" Ted chuckled. "What did you talk about?"

"The future of Spartan-Marine relations. The details of which are classified at the time." He plugged a chip into an empty holographic table. "I'm here to give you your next mission. We still need to re-organize our troops, better splitting them into teams as we monitor UNSC colonies and watching over our marine population, should they decide to pull a fast one. This is where you come in."

The table booted, showing a colony world, being orbited by one moon.

"This is Sigma Octanus IV," Fred said. "You will know this as being one of the only times the UNSC managed to repel a Covenant invasion during the War. We fear that such a world would be a great moral victory for radical Covenant forces, should they attack it. It will be your job to monitor it until we can scrounge up a true policing force for it."

Cameron raised her hand.

"Sir, do we have a time frame for this op?"

"We expect that you'll be out there for no more than two weeks," Fred said. "We want to make sure that the marines don't try another insurrection at our doorstep."

"And we will just be monitoring the colony, sir?"

"Exactly. I forbid you from taking action against any Covenant forces, should they decide to drop in. You will send an SOS to both Sparta and the UNSC, then get out as quickly as you can in accordance to the Cole Protocol. Any other questions?"

"We'll just be sitting in a prowler for two weeks?" Ted asked.

Fred paid him no mind.

"We'll just be sitting in a prowler for two weeks, _sir?_" Ted said again, raising his hand.

"Yes, you will," Fred replied. "Address me correctly, corporal."

Ted snorted under his breath, but not quietly enough to not be heard.

"Stow that shit," Fred snapped.

"Sir." Ted crisply saluted, his voice a hard neutral.

"You will be there for two weeks, but not in a prowler. We want to test our new stealth technology. Because of this, you will be taking a modified Pelican, one outfitted with a Slipspace drive. You'll be able to jump into and out of the system with no problem, and no signature, just like the prowlers."

Anna raised her hand, beating Rabi and Steven.

"Sir, is that safe?" She asked.

"Naomi told us how it was done. Apparently when she was in this Kilo Five outfit, they did it all the time," Fred said. "That, and you will have the new Mjolnir armor, the mark VII." The hologram of Sigma Octanus was replaced with a picture of the new armor. It was similar to their current mark VI armor, but was blockier, with less exposed gel layer and more sharp angles.

"It's designed for greater stealth, shielding, and has built-in atmospheric re-entry abilities, greater than the previous designs, and even comes with a Slipspace de-insertion mechanism," Fred said. "You'll be testing them out in zero-g when on assignment. And trust me, if you get caught in Slipspace, you'll be thanking those de-insertion mechanisms."

Ted ooh-ed at them.

"Thank you, sir," Rabi said. "Are we Alpha testers, or beta testers?"

"More like Charlie testers. We were going to give them a run down earlier, but that was before the marine uprising." Cameron and Anna lowered their heads. They had both lost men.

"Cameron, you'll be taking command of this op, is that okay?"

"Sir, it is." Fred gave her a hard look, trying to see if she was buckling. She wanted to, she needed to, but this was a mission, and she had to be her best, even if she didn't want to be. It was what she trained for. She was a Spartan, after all.

"You'll be reporting in every other day," he said, still giving her an out. "Lyn will be joining you for tactical command."

"Understood, sir."

"Good." Fred killed the projector. "Your new suits are in the next room. You'll have three hours to calibrate them to your liking, then you're going on mission."

* * *

"Pretty nice," Rabi said. She twisted in zero-g, righting herself at the last minute and planting herself on the Pelican's floor.

"Hey Mikey, I think she likes it," Steven said.

"It even offers integration with my cybernetic eye."

"Actually, that's a quick patch I made," Lyn said. "I thought you might like a more personal touch."

"You know how to make a girl feel special," Rabi said.

Cameron could clearly hear them in the cockpit door. She wanted to go back there, but the mess…it made the ants crawl. She wished Bridget was here. It didn't help much. The cockpit was much cleaner, but so small, and in her new armor, it felt even smaller. She played with Bridget's dog tags. The long hours wore her out, especially with her stress and paranoia.

There was a knock at the door.

"Come in," she said.

Ted floated in and sat in the co-pilot's seat.

"How are things up in here?" He asked. "Quiet, or as quiet as a grave?"

"What do you want, Ted?" Cameron sighed.

"Just seeing how the other half lived," he said. "Things are dead boring back there."

"I thought you would like some nice, quiet time for deep meditation," she said. "You always gravitate towards that at base."

"What, you mean the eating, sleeping and living alone thing?" He said. "It's one thing to pick it, it's something else to have it chosen for you."

Cameron grunted. She looked out at Sigma Octanus.

"Besides, I always get a kick from creeping people out." She could hear the toothy grin in his voice, and she hated it. "Have to give those guys a break."

"Go bother Anna," she said.

"Is that an order?"

"You want it to be one?"

"I'll be quiet."

"Wonder how long that will last," Cameron said. Ted leaned back in the chair and folded his arms across his chest. He seemed intent to keep his peace, so Cameron let him. She eventually disabled her armor's HUD clock so she would stop checking it. The chatter from the Pelican's cargo bay turned into senseless babble as she just sat there, watching the screen feed her data. And Ted still didn't talk. He didn't even have a comm channel open to talk, chuckle and laugh into.

"Cameron, is everything fine?" Lyn said, breaking the silence.

"Just mind killingly numb," she said.

"Trust me when I say I know how it is," the smart AI said.

"It must be worse for you. I'm sorry you had to come with us on this op."

"I'm sorry too, but it's my duty to help."

"Lyn, I have a question," Cameron said.

"What can I help with?"

"Does Ted have an encrypted channel open?" She asked. "He said he was going to be quiet, and I haven't heard a peep from him."

Lyn paused.

"There is no comm channel of any kind open," she said. "He's not even muttering to himself. Well, maybe some lip movement, but I can't scan inside his armor."

"Ted, being quiet. That's something."

* * *

"Cameron, I think it's time for a talk," Anna said, knocking on the door to the cockpit. "We're dancing around the issue so many times we're repeating themselves."

Cameron groaned. She hadn't gotten up in what felt like days. The micro gravity threw every feeling off. She pulled herself out of the chair and floated back into the cargo bay. The ants crawled as the observation equipment stuck out at her. It was all wrong, too messy. One scanner was almost completely perpendicular to the box of supplies. She pushed the feeling down as best she could.

Everyone was sitting on the shuttle's few remaining chairs. Ted had pulled his chest plate off, and started carving something into it with his knife.

"I think it's long time that we talk about Circumstances again," Cameron said. Everyone nodded. "We all lost something, and I don't know about you, but Chief Lucy's talks have made me feel better."

"They sure help me," Anna said, sitting next to her. Everyone nodded. Ted snorted.

"No one ever seems to see you anywhere, Ted," Cameron said. He looked up at her. "How have you been since Circumstances?"

"Me?" Ted said. "No one ever seems to worry about me."

"You're our squad mate, we need to look after you," she said.

"That's kind of you," he grinned. He sheathed his knife and blew on his chest plate. He had carved _hyper-lethal and loving it! _on his chest plate and began strapping it back on. Bits of carved off paint and metal shavings floated away from him. He rooted around for a small hand vacuum and cleaned up his mess, much to Cameron, and the ant's, delight. "I'm just _fine_. I dream of that place every night. It was a good fight; makes for good sleeping."

"Is that some kind of bravado?" Steven asked. "No one could get out of that one with no kind of hitch."

"Please, everyone knows my reputation," Ted said. He took his helmet off and pulled his knife out again. "I'm the crazy fucker you call when things get fucked or when you need to fuck things up. I have my own little box that you put me into and pull me out of whenever its most convenient for you." He started carving on his helmet. "And you know what? That's just fine with me. I love my job. Hell, my job is my hobby. That's why Circumstances doesn't bother me, it's what I live for. You might want a nice, safe, cozy place for humanity and the UNSC to hold hands and sing Kumbaya in, I just want a weapon and something made of meat to carve up. You call Circumstances hell, but I call it home."

"But you must have felt relief when the marines stepped in," Rabi said. "The way we were going, we would have been overrun and killed to the man."

"Eh."

"'Eh?'"

"Eh," Ted said. He examined his work. He carved _hard to kill _on the side of his helmet. "The cavalry riding in put a dampener on things. Those life or death moments are the greatest thing ever, proof that a god does exist. It really killed the mood. I would have liked to see if the Covenant had someone up to the task of killing me. Now that would be a fun fight!"

He carved a quick smile on his face plate before putting the helmet back on. He picked up the handheld vacuum cleaner and sucked up the metal shavings floating around him, just as the ant's crawling became unbearable.

"You aren't human," Anna spat.

"Jeez, you aren't either," he said. "We're beyond that, remember? So leave me out of this little group therapy thing, I'm just fine where I am."

Ted stowed the vacuum and leaned on his elbows.

"What are you waiting for?" Cameron asked.

"I never actually saw this whole group therapy thing in action," he said. "I'd like to know what happens with it."

"Ted, go to the cockpit and watch the monitors," she snapped.

"Yes, ma'am." He got up and floated to the cockpit. Cameron waited until the door was closed before speaking.

"This is why we don't talk about Ted," she groaned. "Lyn, keep an eye on him."

"Should I be watching his examination of the colony, or should I be examining his emotional reactions?" Lyn asked.

"Yes."

"Understood."

* * *

Fred stood before them as they walked out of the Pelican. Spending ten days in microgravity had weakened them, despite the daily resistance training they did with their armor's locked joints, and they all walked with the signature 'lope' of the weakened muscles.

"Sir, Petty Officer First Class Cameron reporting a successful mission," Cameron said, saluting.

"Excellent work, Petty Officer," Fred said. He returned the salute and they both dropped their arms. Cameron's shook minutely. She couldn't wait to get to the gym and make up for lost muscles. "How do you feel?"

"I feel fine, sir. Better now that the mission is over."

"And how do you feel about leading a squad?"

"I…I think I can live with that, sir. As long as I avoid some combat for a month or more."

"Good. Because we need soldiers like you, Cameron, and because this is the squad you'll be leading," Fred said. "We've decided to go back to the old team structure; five soldiers in a squad."

"Why the change, sir?"

"Frankly, it's more out of desperation than anything else," Fred said. "We don't have the population for thirty-man units."

Cameron lowered her head, but quickly checked the motion. It was not lost on Fred, thought.

"We never had them in the first place, not even when you were first given command of your squad."

"With respect, sir, then why did you give me command of thirty soldiers?"

"Because we never had that many Spartans to work with. ONI kept our squads light years apart, each working a different mission at any given time. We figured that we needed to have a large force to repel any invasion attempts by the Covenant, and since we had more Spartans than we ever had, we placed a larger number of you together."

"And this new structuring will be more efficient?"

"It will give you something you enjoy: a constraint, a challenge. Now you will need to figure how to complete each challenge with the smallest group of men. Spartans always worked better in small numbers, and until our population can support platoon sized engagements and greater, this will be how we work.

"Each system will have at least two squads, one infantry, one armor support. For the larger colonies, a third may be attached as a heavy weapons team, or anti-air support. Regardless, this will give us the ability to patrol nearly all UNSC colonies as well as offering leave for a rotating schedule."

"It sounds like a good idea, sir. Where are we posted to first?"

"Your deployment will be posted in four weeks' time. As of now, you're on leave."

"Sir, requesting permission for an immediate mission," Ted said, snapping to attention.

"You have a problem with leave, Spartan?"

"Sir, after spending ten days in micro-gravity, this Spartan needs something constructive to do, sir."

"What do you say, Petty Officer?" Fred asked Cameron. "Is your man up for the challenge?"

"Sir, he's foaming at the mouth, sir."

"You'll be going solo, Spartan."

"All the better, sir," Ted said. He had his helmet on, but Cameron could hear his grin. "After spending ten days in one room with his squad, this Spartan could use the quiet time."

"It very well might be a one-way trip."

"This Spartan is very much looking forward to seeing if some Covenant is up to the task of punching his ticket, sir."

"Very well, we'll see if there are any suicide missions for you. And why did you modify your armor without permission? Did you think we wouldn't mind you damaging Spartan property?"

"Sir, its psychological warfare, sir."

Fred glared at Ted.

"You're lucky we can't spare a man," he said.

"Thank you, sir, but this Spartan believes you need him even if you had the men."

"When I want your opinions, I will ask for it," Fred snapped. He turned to Cameron. "Report to the armory for a debriefing on the performance of the Mjolnir VII. Welcome to leave, Spartans."

* * *

Lucy's hand was heavy on her shoulder. Cameron couldn't believe that she let herself get talked into this. But Lucy said it would help her feel better, and if that's what it took to feel better, to get the ants to stop crawling so much, it was a small price to pay. Besides, it wouldn't be the first time she was right.

"Need to talk to them," Lucy said. "I wish I had talked to Tom. But too late."

"I know," Cameron said. She looked out at the boot camp. Chief Tom was running the recruits around the base, and they were keeping good time for un-augmented soldiers. They were making very good time.

"Just like our group talks," Lucy said. "Only you start talking, not me. No loose ends, all wrapped up, able to move on. Able to talk."

Cameron nodded.

"I don't know what to do," she admitted. "I've never had to talk to Rock or Alice in training."

"Something new. You'll do fine," Lucy said. "You're Spartan, always find way."

"Thank you for the vote of confidence," Cameron said. A whistle blew, and Chief Ash walked up to the trainees, who fell in line.

"Training is over," he said in his flat voice. The aggression-repression medication was making him sound tired and strung out. Cameron wondered how he lived with it. Or what he was like when he stopped taking it. "If you don't have a visitor, report back to the barracks. Dinner in thirty."

Lucy patted her back, and Cameron walked towards the mess hall where the visiting was done. There were a few other Spartans with her, namely Steven. The visiting was always done for status updates, how training was going, how good they were, who was winning or was about to win the top squad award.

Alice and Rock were by the corner of the mess hall. Cameron walked towards them.

"Hello," she said, smiling.

"Hi mom," Alice said.

"Hi," Rock said. They sat down.

"How is training?" She asked.

"Brutal," Rock said. "They make us do so much, and we're always running."

"Once you're done, you'll know it was worthwhile."

"Yes, but it won't come fast enough," Alice said.

"It will come faster than you think." Cameron took a deep breath. "We need to talk about Bridget."

"We know what happened to other mom," Rock said.

"But we still need to talk about it," Cameron said. "I need to talk about it."

"Just because you got shell shock doesn't mean you got to drag us into it!" Cameron felt like she was just slapped. Even the ants stopped crawling. Rock glared back at her.

"This is mom we're talking to," Alice said, putting a hand on his shoulder. "We both miss her."

"As much as I do, I'm sure," Cameron said.

"We're not stupid, or have our heads buried in sand," Rock said. "We've heard about what Chief Lucy is doing to you guys, everyone who was at Circumstances, and it's stupid."

"I don't think it's stupid," Alice said.

"You'll want someone to talk to if you lost your partner," Cameron said.

"Maybe I don't want a partner," Rock said.

"You'll want one. Do you want to end up like Ted?"

"Just because I don't have a partner doesn't mean I'll end up like Ted. Anna doesn't have a partner."

"And she comes with us to the meetings," Cameron said. "We all need a partner, someone to talk to, to watch your back. Rock, we need to talk about Bridget."

"So now you want to try and make it up to us when you couldn't talk to us the first time?" He demanded.

"Mom, he misses her," Alice says. "He's just angry."

"I'm not trying to make it up to you, I'm trying to tell you I'm sorry," Cameron said. "I failed as a leader, letting her die there, and I failed you as a mother, not talking to you about her. I'm just trying to make things right."

"It's never going to be right," Rock said.

"I know. But we still need to talk, before we can't anymore."

Cameron couldn't hold Rock's glare, so she broke eye contact and pulled out Bridget's dog tags.

"She was my partner, and I miss her," she said. "I can't imagine how it would be to lose a parent. I never had one." She gave each of the two tags to Alice and Rock. Rock squeezed his until his knuckles went white. "I'm sorry for being a bad parent. This is new to me, and I didn't know my full duties."

"Thank you," Alice said. Rock just nodded. Cameron couldn't think of anything to say, so they just sat there. She had to talk, it was what Lucy recommended, told her to do. But maybe nothing needed to be said. Maybe they talked all they could. Suddenly Cameron knew what to talk about.

"So, how is training? Does Chief Tom still have a stick up his ass when it comes to drill practice?"

* * *

Linda and Kelly were waiting for Fred when he got back to his office.

"Sydney, you have the base," he told his secretary.

"You should stop handing over control of everything to me," she said.

"You should stop being so good at running everything," he replied. "You wrap your mind around this 'economy' thing?"

"Getting there," she said. "I have the base. Have a good meeting, sir."

Fred closed the doors and sat down at his desk.

"Do you have any pressing issues that need to be brought up?" He asked.

"Nothing, unless you count very compliant marines," Kelly said.

"Good. Lyn, Baldwin, how is the work on the economy?"

The two AIs blinked into existence just above the table.

"It's progressing by leaps and bounds, but we still need gold to back a currency up," Lyn said.

"As far as training Spartans with it, that's progressing at the estimated rate," Baldwin said. "In about seven months, we'll have some rudimentary economists on our hands. And the soldiers will tremble once they know we'll be counting munitions again."

"And how is it with the trainees?" Linda asked.

"As easily as you expect to train children on economic lessons."

"So, well enough, given their other fields of studies. And we're still a year out?"

"Assuming we find a few tons of gold for the standard, yes," Lyn said.

"That would make the marines happy," Fred said. "And the next generation armor?"

"The data syncs up, the firmware is up to snuff, and we're ready for widespread upgrading."

"Status report on the troops?"

"Light fighting with radical Covenant troops, but nothing like the Blitz of Circumstances," Baldwin said. "That's what the UNSC is calling it, by the way."

"Fitting," Kelly said. "And the new AIs?"

"We have the best flash cloned brain samples maturing in culture, and should have enough for three more Smart AIs," Lyn said. "They're in a redundant network and should progress nicely."

"Are you expecting a network attack on the new AIs?" Linda asked.

"No, but this is would allow them to mature at their own rate, which would translate into more stable personas," she said.

"Good. We're still on schedule for augmentation, correct?"

"Yes. We're set for the first round to begin in four years. You know, most people get nervous when they're months away from a big event, not years," Baldwin said.

"This is the event that we were waiting for, the reason we went rogue," Fred said. "You could say that all our hopes are riding on it."

"Understandable," Baldwin said. "Also, the marines are cooperating in a most helpful manner. They should be ready to donate genetic material by the end of the week."

"And their housing?" Kelly asked.

"All repaired. All in all, we're doing very well for ourselves."

"Assuming we get gold for the new economy," Lyn said.

"We'll send a team to scan for possible mines," Fred said. He leaned back in his chair. "I always thought I'd die on some battlefield, never behind a desk."

"I second that," Kelly said.

"Think the Vs are ready for real leadership?" He asked.

"What do you mean?" Linda said.

"I was thinking of putting myself in cryo," Fred said. "At least, until there was a real war that needed to be fought."

"Freeze yourself until you can die gloriously in battle?" Kelly asked, raising her eyebrow.

"I think it's better than dying of old age."

"Going like Mendez isn't good enough for you?"

"It's not what we planned on," Linda said. "We're good at one thing: being soldiers. Not dying of old age."

"Exactly," Fred said. "Besides, if things really get FUBAR'd, they can unthaw me and we'll figure out how to make them better leaders."

"Not a bad plan," Baldwin said. "A mock crisis is a good way to plan things."

"Would the other Spartans like it?" Lyn asked. "You need to set a good example. With that, you might end up setting a trend."

"A bunch of old, frozen Spartans," Kelly chuckled. "Now that's a sight."

"We might have to look into that," Fred said. "Hell, the way things are going, if we do freeze ourselves, we might end up being around for whenever they find John."

"Now that's an idea!" Linda laughed.

* * *

"Director Osman, your daily report," Adam said, handing Serin the data pad with a flourish.

"I need to find more things for you to do," Serin said. "How many more attacks?"

"Three," Adam said. "All in the outer colonies, all very small, and all repelled by UNSC forces augmented with small teams of Spartans."

"And how are the colonists reacting to this?"

"Surprisingly well. Whenever the Covenant drop out to start wrecking shit, all Insurrectionists immediately team up with the UNSC and kick them out of the system."

"And how do you feel about the small attack parties?"

"Circumstances was a fluke, a bunch of radical groups meeting up under one charismatic anti-human hinge head who got killed in the battle. Or that was all the radicals could muster, and they're spending more time running from the Arbiter's buddies than fighting us."

"Good guesses, but we must also plan on them orchestrating a larger attack. Spartans have a reputation with the hinge heads, call us 'demons.' Seeing sixty 'demons' must be getting them to plan a larger attack force, one that would put any battle from the Human Covenant War to shame."

"Then why not attack now?"

"Because they're covertly planning it. That sort of thing takes time."

"I still don't buy it."

"Than what do you say?"

"They're either scared of the Spartans, or they're all dead."

"A fair guess. Any report on the Spartan teams?"

"Just multiple five-man squads. Circumstances must have hurt them, too."

"But they'll be coming up with more Spartans soon," Serin said. "Their kids must be a few years away from augmentation."

"That will be scary," Adam said.

"Of course it will be. But we already have an army of Spartans. Now we just need to work on improving their quality."

"I'm telling you, the secondary augmentation idea is a dead end."

"Until we can match true Spartans in combat, it is not a dead idea," Serin snapped. "We can still stop them from becoming another Covenant."

"That idea is a dead end as well."

"Please. A caste system? Wide-spread eugenics? The only thing stopping Fred's Spartan society from becoming the Covenant is ideology. In their case, a lack of it."

"I still think you're off your rocker."

"Trying to get me out of my high chair?"

"If I was, I wouldn't be so up front with you," Adam replied.

"Good boy." Serin put the data pad down. "It's seven o'clock, Adam. And all is going well in the world."


End file.
